


Bolters, Sorcery, and Dust

by Dealek



Category: RWBY, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Adeptus Mechanicus (Warhammer 40.000), Lamenters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dealek/pseuds/Dealek
Summary: Thrust into remnant by a warp storm, a Lamenter and his Techpriest companion investigate this new world.While on the other side of the world, a sorcerer of the thousand sons seeks redemption for his sins, and finds it through a lonely child of a rich family, abandoned by his siters.
Comments: 29
Kudos: 37





	1. The marine and the Techpriest V2

**Author's Note:**

> "Speaking"  
> ‘thinking’

**Hey yall! Due to the restructuring, Ill be posting (and then deleting) each chapter in order of release.**

**Here is the fully rewritten opening chapter. Hopefully with a better introduction, grammar, and storytelling, it’ll be a better opening for new readers.**

**WARNING: CHAPTERS 3 AND 4 WILL NOT MAKE SENSE UNTIL VERSION 2 IS RELEASED.**

**Hope Yall enjoy!**

A timekeeper quietly ticked against the wall, its brass hands moving ever so slowly around the surface. The steady thrum of engines and the squeals of released steam created a distant drone, ever present in her ears.

The dark brass walls gave a calming shine against the worlds sun, the brilliant rays of an afternoon shining through the hive cities spires. A stack of papers sat stacked upon the wooden table, read, signed, and filed in perfect order.

Reports of gene stealers had been flooding out of the under hive, desperately calling for reinforcements. She would have preferred to deal with it properly, but the planetary govoner had stayed her hand, insisting she look elsewhere.

The golden mural of humanities lord shone against the wall behind her, his shining brilliance glowing in the window’s purple sunlight.

…

Power maul and bolt pistol at her side, shield on her arm, she stared out towards the Governor’s palace, shining a bright purple aura. Her vox link burst to life with shouts and warnings, calls and screams.

~~~~~~~

**[WARNING: Memory Unit Malfunction]**

**[WARNING: Data Unit Malfunction]**

**[WARNING: Scanning Unit Malfunction]**

**[Rebooting Systems…]**

~~~~~~~

The palace was a warzone.

The guns and walls that had been built to protect the imperial authority were now raining hell down upon the PDF. The bright White and Blue Uniforms of the Twelfth Praxis defense regiment was marred with deep red of human blood.

What had once been a suspicion raised by Arbitrator teams on sight, had now become a dark reality as an indescribable vortex sat above the great building, horrid screams filling the air. A cacophony of light and color beyond human understanding shone above them, consuming all it touched. The twisted, malformed, bodies of what had once been the palace guard were now charging against the loyalist forces, their screams of pleasure and pain doing more damage to the PDF than their actual weapons.

“Pilot! How close to the palace walls can you get us?” She shouted over the Valkyries engines.

 _“Can’t get closer than our lines have already reached, the courtyards are full of muties and traitors!”_ Came the reply over the Vox.

Damnit! They needed to get in now, before it was too late to stop whatever ritual the governors had started.

But how to…

“…Pilot, I need you to follow my next order without doubt or fear, do you understand?”

_“…Yes Marshal, I understand…”_

“There is a large ornate window in the fashion of our lord on the eighteenth floor. I need you to crash through it.”

_“…Roger, marshal. Ave Imperator”_

“What is your name, pilot?”

_“Lorus Ralian, Ma’am.”_

“Ave Imperator, Lorus.”

She and the five other arbitrators strapped themselves in for the crash ahead. With any luck, their might, cunning, and zeal, would win them the day.

If not for the Emperor…

Then for the countless innocents below.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**[WARNING: Memory Unit Recalibrating…]**

**[WARNING: Data Unit Recalibrating…]**

**[WARNING: Scanning Unit Recalibrating…]**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

She felt the crash, rather than saw it, the dark interior bore no change as the sound of shattering glass sounded around them.

The Valkyrie slammed into the marble of the palace floor, gouging great chunks of the polished stoned along with it.

Metal rent, engines burst, glass broke.

The transports side was blown open by a power maul, followed by six black clad figures climbing out of its destroyed hull.

Vastra took the lead, bolt pistol and maul in hand, followed by Jamison their plasma gunner, with Lanius, Orello, and Aero making the rear.

The pilot had indeed died in the crash, Vastra leaving an aquila on his body to retain his purity in death.

Despite the war outside, the palace halls were eerily quiet, no sound could be heard other than the clanking of boots. The silence should have been comforting; No wails of pain, no daemonic chanting, no marching of clawed feet, yet…It disturbed her all the same.

Slowly, as they marched, a steady thump could be heard in the distance, not unlike that of a heart. A pulsating pink light beginning to flow over the palace walls.

What had started as mere thumps quickly turned into a great orchestra of beats, as though the hearts of an entire world were fighting for dominance.

A bolt shell clattered to the floor as a hole was opened within a traitor’s chest, the chitin like skin doing little to block her shot. Not a scream, but a moan left their throat as they fell dead.

Traitor after traitor charged into the now beating halls, blindly running into the squad of arbitrators. Despite the bolt shells, plasma shots, and maul blasts, they kept coming. Blood now bathed the ground like water after rainfall, the red liquid sticking to their boots.

Ever on they marched, the legion of maniacs never halting their stride. One by one, step by step, shot by shot, they forged a path to the source of daemonic power, the governor’s personal chambers coming into view.

Tendrils of power seeped from the room, almost seeming to beckon them forth as they entered the ritual site.

A raised altar lay in the middle of the room, dead servants and guards surrounding it in varying states of mutilation. A blinding light radiated from a great sphere that hung over it all, whispers seeping from its form.

 **“Ah! The marshal herself arrives! BRILLIANT!”** The Governor shouted from upon the pedestal he stood upon, a great vortex beginning to form behind him.

**“I had hoped that the _ever-present_ thorn in my side would get the pleasure of watching my ascension! Now, behold the powers the _true_ gods have granted me!”**

Poor Jamison didn’t have time to fire a single plasma blast before he was lifted into the air next to the vortex. She watched as he screamed in pain, his bones and armor snapping from the sheer force that gripped him. Jameson’s now limp body fell to the ground, still primed plasma rifle thudding down next to him.

Lanius fared no better, as they bolt shells simply dissipated before making contact, rematerializing through a portal behind him. Orello, desperate, charged the governor, Flail in hand, before simply vanishing in a flash of light.

Aero, the fool, turned his gun on himself, unwilling to die to the heretic’s power.

Vastra…Vastra couldn’t move.

It was not fear that stopped her, but a force that restricted her limbs, and forced her into a still position, bolt pistol aimed just low of her target.

**“And at last it is only the two of us! Watch and behold! PRINCE OF PLEASURE HEAR MY CRY! YOUR SERVANT BECONES YOUR POWER UNTO THIS WORLD, COME TO-!”**

It was only then, that she realized there was more than two in the room. From the dark came a woman dressed in servant’s gear, rushing towards Jamison’s cracked weapon.

It was only in the blue light of the plasma that Vastra saw the feline ears upon her head…

_“An abhuman…?”_

**“What are you-? NO!”** The maddened heretic turned just in time to see the abhuman level the plasma rifle preparing to fire one last shot into him.

“DIE SCUM, FOR THE EMPEROR!” With one last triumphant cry, the woman jammed the trigger…

But a bolt of energy did not emerge, for in the weapons fall, it had taken that last piece of critical damage…

A great blue explosion shone in front of the fallen governor, his power barely holding it back…

Power that was more than strong enough to negate it entirely.

For despite the great power he held, the great gods that fed him, he was still human.

And humans were prone to one thing:

FEAR.

Regardless of his abilities, in his fear, the governor had focused every last shard of power into the barrier that now held back the explosion.

Every.

Last.

Shard.

There was nothing to stop her as she raised her arm.

There was nothing to stop her as finger fell upon trigger.

There was nothing to stop her as the bolt round burst from its chamber.

There was nothing to stop her as the round found its home.

Within the Governors skull.

With a great blinding flash of horrific light, Vatra faded from consciousness.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Her eyes slowly opened to the dark chambers, a small wailing being heard over the silence. She reached for her bolt pistol before taking a closer look at its source.

Hidden in the corner of the room, just inside a hidden servants hall, was an infant, one who bore the exact same ears as the woman…

The hero, she realized.

That woman, that _abhuman_ , had given her life to save the world…all in the Emperors name…and now what could only be her son stood next to Vastra.

When the inquisition arrived they would…no… She could not let the heros child be put to death so easily.

…Who said they needed to know about the child?

It would be days before the inquisition arrived, days before anyone had a chance to look over the survivor lists, not to mention her _close knit_ circle of officers were adept at keeping things secret from nosy officials, whether that be official documents…or children.

“Kid…” She said, leaning up form where she lay, “What’s your name?”

She inspected the child, looking for any form of identifyer, before finding a small, hastily written, scrawl of paper simply saying “Joshua”.

“Don’t worry Joshua, everything will be alright, now let’s get moving before this palace comes down on top of us.”

**[All systems functioning at acceptable levels]**

**[Recording Terminated]**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**[Flesh-Mind Reinstated at 85% Power]**

Damned thing, his memory module had always been buggy, gets worse the more power he put into his cog-mind…

Joshua…a name left behind the Priesthood.

That memory again, though, perhaps memory wasn’t the right word, ‘helmet recording’ fit far better.

Nearly a year ago Vastra had given him the recording, mere weeks before the tyrranids had swarmed Praxis IV. Before then, he had no way to remember his birth mother, no pictures, drawings, or recordings, nothing but memory.

Some may have seen the video as sad, and he understood them in a way; to them, it would be akin to reliving their loved ones death a thousand times, but to him…

It the was the greatest honor imaginable.

His mother, an abhuman, a mere slave, had been given the chance to give her life in holy service.

She had charged the creature without fear, without hesitation, without mercy.

She died for Praxis.

She died for the innocent.

She died for the Omnissiah.

She died…for him.

And in his eyes, that was all that mattered, as he watched her determined face charge against the heretic one last time, before ending the recording.

A loud clang sounded throughout the workshop; the offending wrench having fallen from his mechanical hand.

He _really_ needed to fix the damn memory unit, how long had he been sitting here, armor plates sitting undisturbed next to him? Long enough a be a nuisance, surely.

Time to get back to work; the marine’s armor wasn’t going to fix itself.

He once again began the process of reapplying the plates before realizing quite the problem.

He couldn’t put the plates back on the marine’s armor, if the marine wasn’t there.

He shot up from where he sat, desperately looking about him for the vanished marine, just to find him leaning against the far wall.

“Hmm, I see you have reawakened, Errant. Off having another daydream, I take it?” The Astarte chuckled, uncrossing his arms and standing in full.

“Ugg, my apologies Lord Archenzo, my memory unit malfunctioned again. If you come back to the repair table, I can get the final plates applied with haste and a prayer for my attention span.” He said, ushering the veteran towards aforementioned table.

He had worked on the Lamenters armor before, practically having become the warrior’s personal assistant ever since they had saved him from his falling world. He was happy to do it, but there wasn’t much of a choice.

While the Priesthood on Praxis IV had accepted him, not in small part due to his tutelage under the Magos, those serving the coalition fleet had not.

His home world had been better about abhumans than most, still little more than slaves, but at the very least they were allowed to live. The Priests of other worlds had taken his existence as an insult and shunned him from their forges and armory.

Thus, he had taken to assisting the marines and guardsmen where he could, until a veteran of the chapters command squad, one Kaphail Archenzo had started having him follow them around after the chapter’s final tech marine fell.

The final ceramite plate fell into place, once again completing the golden power armor.

**[Repair – Complete]**

“A fine job, Priest, I can always count on you to repair my armor when needed.” The marine said, testing the newly affixed bracer. “Would you like to join me to the command bridge? We should be seeing the next world after a quick warp jump and it would be a shame to miss the sight of a world **not** over run, for once.” There was a bitterness to his words, one not unfound.

The coalition of ships they found themselves within was one made purely out of desperation. The hive fleets tendrils had been taking world after world, destroying almost everything in its path, leading to countless ships desperately evacuating from entire systems.

As time went on, and as safe worlds began to dwindle, the coalition was formed.

Made out of Guard regiments, PDF’s, and even a smattering of Mechanicus forces, the coalition fleet went system to system fighting the Tyrranid threat. It was not often they truly **won** a world, but they could at the very least save the innocent from certain death.

“Might as well, still need to report to the magos before the work period is over, but a slight deviation won’t hurt.”

“Ha! That more like it!” The veteran shouted, clapping Errant on the back hard enough to damage his footing, the digitigrade leg augments desperately gouging at the ground for purchase “You’re still young, can’t have you missing out on the few good things in life.”

The jovial nature of the Lamenters was…off putting. _Aren’t space marines supposed to be inhuman death machines without emotion?_

“Omnissiah willing I’m actually able to get some work done, someone has to keep the lower decks in working order, and I doubt you’ll be volunteering for the job anytime soon.”

Kaphails wrinkled face was practically beaming as he once more clapped Errant on the back, this time forcing him to the ground. _Ganna have to run damage checks after this…_

“There’s the snark I was looking for, it was starting to get a bit too formal for my taste.” He said, rubbing their bone white stubble in mock-thought.

“Ugh, keep the jokes to yourself old man.” He retorted, earning nothing but a booming laugh from the veteran.

Their walk continued in silence as they carefully made their way through the dark halls of the _Mater._ A recent skirmish had damaged the crafts generator, thankfully it was only enough to cause minor nuisances, but it was a problem all the same.

**+ATTENTION: WARP JUMP IMMINENT+**

The veteran mumbled something, giving the vox systems a concerned look before unclipping his helmet and putting it on.

“This is Archenzo, what’s going on up there? We shouldn’t be making the jump for another half hour.”

The faint sound of vox chatter met Errants ears, even without augments, the things were powerful.

“…Understood, keep me posted.” He looked to Errant then, the red lenses of his helm hiding the expression beneath. “The astropaths have detected something in the warp and suggested we moved the departure ahead, hence the sudden jump. Shouldn’t be too much to worry about.”

He nodded his understanding, warp issues were a near constant alongside the chapter, what could only be some vindictive god having it out for them.

The two braced for the inevitable shake that would rock the ship when they entered the warp, Errant digging his talons down and Kaphail grasping the wall with an iron grip.

**+Warp Transfer in 3, 2, 1…+**

The change from reality to warp had started off smoothly at first, the normal shudders going throughout the ship, but it was all ended with the sound of an earth shattering explosion.

**+WARNING: GELLAR FIELD FAILURE – PREPARE FOR BOARDING+**

“Ahhh, looks like our lucks caught up to once again. What is this, fourth time in the month? I swear, it keeps getting worse.” The marine’s mutterings were cut short as a great red daemon burst into the hall before them, a dark fog immanating from its furred from.

“Errant get behind me! Provide covering fire!” Kaphail shouted, drawing his power sword and charging the beast.

**[ Shoulder Mounted Plasma Rifle/Online]**

**[Gamma Pistol/Online]**

**[Macro-Stubber/Online]**

**[Generating Firing Trajectory…]**

A stream of energy rounds flew down the corridor, slamming into every possible weak point the creature held. With the amount of rounds searing its flesh it wouldn’t have made it to them, had it not been for the daemon after that, and after that, and after that.

A veritable swarm had begun forming, all manner of beasts charging into the meat grinder that was Kaphail.

His shield slammed one into the wall, the power sword to pierce its skull before sweeping out to behand the next before a plasma round boiled its brain.

The plan was simple; keep them in melee with Kaphail, while he peppered them with shots. Though he had full trust in his axe skills, he doubted they would matter all that much to a horde of daemons, better to let the marine do it for him.

Ever so Slowly they began to be forced back, the horde growing larger and larger.

“Errant, when I give the order, I need you to run for the ventilation shaft. Use your cogitators map to make your way to either the bridge or the barracks, whichevers closer. What matters is that my brothers are alerted to the daemons down here, do you understand?” The pleasant tone of the marine had dissipated, having been replaced by one far sterner.

“I don’t like it, but…I understand. Give the order.”

“Good. Move in three, two, one…NOW!”

He turned to skitter up the walls into the nearest shaft, but found his limbs unwilling to move.

 **“That, my friend, will not be necessary.”** A bone chilling voice said from the halls end.

A chorus of wailing sung as lighting burned through the gather swarm, filling the air with the smoke of banished daemons, faint traces of electricity still in the air.

“…Librarian…?” Kaphail muttered confused.

The fog suddenly disbanded as a giant blue figure manifested from a tear in reality.

A great force threw Kaphail through the portal at great speed, the marine barely able to react to the sudden action. The same for then came for him, dragging him from the ground and towards the vortex.

He looked up as his momentum ceased to see the sorcerer’s ancient helmet, cracks spanned its from as millennia old scars broke its form. The heretic now stared him in the eyes, the two less than a foot apart.

**“Despite everything you may wish, despite everything you believe, know this; I remain a loyal son.”**

Confusion rocked Errants system as he was launched through the portal and into unconsciousness.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**[Life Signs – Stable]**

**[Activating Command Unit…]**

Pain wracked his body for a brief second before a numbness covered his form, augments dulling his nerves.

Errants eyes slowly opened to a deep black sky, bright sparkling stars spread around, almost as though he were looking at a painting.

**[Start Up Complete]**

**[All Systems Functioning at Acceptable Levels]**

His clawed hands dug into the ground as he made to stand, the soft snow giving way to sharpened steel.

His enhanced optics scanned the world around him noting everything; from the pure white snow, to the canine daemon, to the glistening sky-

A plasma bolt slammed into the creature’s head before he could finish the thought, the cog moving faster than the flesh.

“Ah, yes, the daemon portal. Probably should have been a bit more on edge, shouldn’t’ve I?” Errant said out loud, a stressed laugh grating through the vox in his throat.

Looking up, he realized just the situation he was in; the wolf like beasts had completely surrounded his position, slowly preparing their attack.

**[Abnormality detected]**

**+Pack data suggests the hostile units should have begun their assault+**

**+Units appear hesitant+**

**+Further data requested+**

Indeed, the beasts were acting…strange.

They sat back howling at him rather than pushing the assault, using their numbers to overwhelm a single target.

What was halting their attack?

“You dropped this.”

Turning around, he saw _exactly_ what made the daemons hesitant. Behind him stood the titanic form of Veteran Archenzo. Black blood was splattered over the yellow ceramite, and the brutalized form of a canine hung in a raised hand before, with a sickening crunch, its neck was shattered.

In his other fist was Errants power axe, the weapon appearing almost childlike compared to the marine.

“Ah! Its good to see your alright, I was starting to get worried.” He said, taking back the axe while the marine drew his sword.

“You needn’t worry about me, young one, I can handle myself just fine. These daemons on the other hand…I wonder, would I be aloud to keep one as a rug? I’ve been needing a new one for my quarters, and these pelts accent the yellow and white nicely.” His sword had begun to glow a faint blue, a dull hum coming from its blade.

“Depends, how likely is it that there will be one intact enough to ‘rugify’.”

**[Weapons Systems Online]**

“Oh, I don’t know. Hmmm, think you could get a clean shot on one of their hearts? I prefer my rugs soft, not burnt.”

No response was given as the creatures finally made their charge, well over thirty of the things making their way into the clearing.

**[Data Catalogued]**

**+Target creature exhibits low intelligence and a disregard for its own wellbeing+**

Plasma, Macro, and gamma rounds slammed into the horde as it made its desperate attack, beast after beast dying to the torrent of fire power.

They just…charged! How do you outsmart a creature dumb enough to charge at a ranged opponent from across a damned field?! Was that the point?! To mindlessly slam against the enemy until they either ran out of ammo or got tired?!

By the Omnissiah’s all-knowing mind, they were dumber than tyrranids! At least _they_ had some form of cohesive combat skills!

“I will admit.” The marine spoke up while slamming a beast into the ground hard enough to collapse its body structure, “I’m not too sure I want one of these as a decoration. There just isn’t any… _effort_ in it. Its like mounting the head of a rabbit you shot with an orbital cannon.” Another had its skull caved in by a half-hearted shield bash.

“Yes, this is…kind of sad.” Another trio found their end to a flurry of precise fire. “I swear, you could throw these at a child and they would still-” the loud ‘ **Crack’** of a high caliber weapon silenced him..

**[High Velocity Target Detected]**

**[Engage Evasive Man-**

A projectile slammed into his side sending him flying through the clearing, a strangely human sounding ‘oof’ ringing out alongside it.

“Well, speak of the devil and they shall appear…” He said, looking at the young red cloaked girl that had slammed into him.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Ruby Rose**

She definitely had a concution…concoction…connection…HEAD BRUISE.

Why was there a steel wall in the middle of the forest?

Why was there a random horde of Grimm?

Why were there six moons?!

“Are you…Cognizant?” a bone chilling, metallic, voice spoke from above her.

Oh great, now she was hearing creepy voices!

“Ok, that was just rude. Lord Archenzo, is my voice creepy?” She heard the voice shout.

Wait…did she say that out loud?

“Yes, and it was very rude of you to say. Now, be a good kid and apologize for hurting Errants feelings.” The second voice was far older and came from A GOLDEN GIANT!

“My lord, please don’t make her do that.”

“She is a child is she not? They need to be taught kindness from a young age.”

“I’m not a kid!” She shouted at the giant, earning a laugh from the man.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Errant Castor**

“Sure you aren’t. Regardless, who are you? I doubt anyone, regardless of age, makes a midnight walk through beast infested woods a habit.”

Her eyes widened, the… _silver?_ Irises shining. _Silver eyes?_

**[Topic Located in Data Storage]**

**+Grey or Silver eyes may be an indication of blindness or reduced vision+**

She didn’t _seem_ blind, but… best not to make assumptions.

“N-N-no! I wasn’t really on a walk I was… _visiting_ someone.” Her voice had dropped to a mere whisper near the end, a sadness coming over her.

Kaphail shot him a look from behind his helmet, the message simple; Change the topic before **I** have to.

“I see…” first things first, figure out where they are. “Do you happen to have a map on hand? Admittedly, the two of us are quite lost and in need of a helping hand.” Remain formal and polite.

“Oh ya, here you can use my scroll!” She said, handing him spme form of holographic data slate.

…

Really? No questions? Why were they here? Why were they so heavily armed?

Was this some form of trick, or was the girl really this naive?

How could a girl, no, ANYONE be trusting enough of strangers they met in a dark forest?!

_Oh sod it, I can care about that later._

**[Connection Confirmed]**

He felt the usual burst of knowledge upon connecting to a device flood through his systems, blinding him for a split second.

Information on the world flooded into his mind; Dust, Grimm, Faunus **[?]** , they were all catalogued and recorded into his mental cogitator. Normally he wouldn’t have been able to gain **all** of the worlds information, but an odd form of Noosphere had been created permitting him a constant connection to this “internet”.

**[Select Files Sent to Recipient: Mustard Mans Helmet]**

Problem: The world not only had no form of void travel, but had no knowledge of the imperium, warp, xenos, or, well, anything…that was going to be a problem.

“Thank you, uh…what was your name?” He asked, realizing he had been mentally calling her ‘girl’ for the entire encounter.

“My names Ruby, Ruby Rose, your errant…right…wait” Oh, had she actually gained a hint of ‘stranger danger’?

“Are you guys Huntsmen!?” No. She had not. _Great._

“In…a manner of speaking.” He responded after a quick search through his connection.

“OOH! Can I have your autographs!? I cant wait until Im a huntress like my sister! Wait, What are those weaponsdoyouhaveanyspeacial-

The following torrent of speech was likened to that of a flashbang.

**c**

“Is this yours?” Kaphail asked, holding the girl up by her cape.

They had barely managed to get her name before she had begun… _Salivating_ , over their arsenal. _Creepy children, trying to molest my guns…_

“Yes, it is.” The blond man in the door frame looked tired, incredibly so, and had been muttering something about _stupid daughters._ “Please, come in, and…sorry about her, she can be a little… _manic_ about new weapons.” He said stepping to the side, allowing kaphail to squeeze inside the house, dropping Ruby on the way in.

It was a quaint little place; wooden walls, decent insulation, a serviceable amount of tech. Honestly, it would have been paradise for most people.

“Thank you for bringing her home, she goes out a lot looking for fights, despite me _specifically_ telling her not to.” The man said, glaring at the girl, motioning for her to go up a set of stairs. He looked back to them with a sigh, “Good to meet you, names Taiyang, or just Tai, and HOLY SHIT WHAT ARE YOU!” Tai shouted as Errant entered the building.

There was a brief second of confusion before they both figured out what went wrong.

Errant, like many Tech-Priests, did not constrain himself to the human form. Digitigrade legs gave him a slouched form, not to mention the extra set of arms and multitude of mechadendrites, he likely looked a tad bit…horrifying, to the average human.

_“Why is everyone so rude tonight?”_

“I apologize for my companion’s appearance, he designs his cybernetics for the sake of function, forgoing any cosmetic care.”

_Forgoing- oh fuck you!_

**[Message Box Opened]**

**[You]**

**The hell do you mean “no cosmetic Care”?! I look great, much better than any of you fleshlings!**

**[Mustard Man]**

**Errant, I am simply trying to diffuse the situation, I would prefer we didn’t get in a fight with the first civilians we meet.**

**[You]**

**Ill accept your excuse…For now! Keep in mind you are on thin ice mustard man!**

**[Mustard Man]**

**Mustard what?**

**[Message Box Closed]**

“Uh… _Okay_ , Ill try not to freak out, just…not used to seeing things like _that._ ” Tai looked no less disturbed but seemed to have gotten over the initial shock. “Um, thank you, again, for bringing Ruby home. Uh…I don’t think I have anything to reward you with but… _thanks?”_

Kaphail Raised a hand into the air, “We have no need of thanks, the safety of the innocent was reward enough for us.” Nudging Errant through the door, he made to leave, “Now, I do believe we have overstayed our welcome. I pray that your family meets good fortune, but must bid you farewell, we have places to be.”

The door closed behind them, leaving the man staring blankly from inside the house.

“Well, that was awkward…and offensive.” He said, distaste clear in his words.

“You cannot judge him too harshly, how often is it that a man like him meets a Tech-Priest? If anything, he took it quite well.” The marine responded, the two making their way towards a nearby road.

“You say that, but his daughter took it bett-…actually, now that I think of it, I don’t think she noticed.”

“Perhaps not.” He said with a chuckle, “She was young and naive, I doubt she has had time for fear to grip her heart like it does others.”

“Maybe so, but-“

He was cut off as his comms system lit up with a broadcast…On an Imperial Frequency.

**+This is Sister Gariah requesting immediate aid. I have been stranded on an unknown location and am low on supplies. Setting message to repeat+**

A quick glance to the marine and they were off, rushing to the messages source.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Back at the Xiaolong residence…

“Ozpin, weve got a little bit of a problem…”


	2. The Sorcerer and apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ritual  
> A plan  
> A chance
> 
> Redemption

Sorcerer Meto

~~~~~~~~~~

He could feel them closing in, those traitors, those _things._

The great ocean was in turmoil around him, desperately clawing at his sanctuary.

But they would not break in.

They **could** not break in.

The **Emperor** would not allow it.

_‘Oh **Emperor** , soon it will be done, soon I will enact your will once more!’_

The ritual before him was unimaginably complex, not even his enhanced eyes could truly perceive its meaning. Hundreds of years had he been slaving away at these alters, hundreds of years had he been preparing for this moment, the moment when retribution would finally be his!

For it was the Emperors will.

500 years earlier…

The siege was all but won.

The imperial forces had been decimated, only a bare few remaining.

He stood in full scarab plate, looking over the dying world. He could only imagine the reward, the bounty, of claiming this world for Tzeentch.

Boundless power? An army of slaves? Forbidden knowledge? They would soon know.

With victory so obviously in their grasp, he left the observation deck, making way for his meditation chamber.

It was in that dark room that the first vision came.

Brilliant golden light.

An angelic voice.

A calming aura.

Meto was thrown from where he sat, shock controlling his body. He knew that presence…

…he had once served it.

With every coming day the visions grew stronger, longer, clearer. They showed him a shrine world. Poorly defended, low on resources, it would be an easy victory.

He knew it was a trap, there was never a doubt of it.

But something stopped him from ignoring it.

Something guided his hand, his word, his mind.

He would not ignore this world.

He **could** not ignore this world

The **Emperor** would not allow it.

He could feel the power draining from him.

The gifts of Tzeentch falling away.

His very _soul_ was under assault.

And it was all because of the pious bitch in front of him.

This _saint._

He knew, now, why he had been brought here.

He was sent to die.

To be a sacrificial lamb to test the Corpse Emperors new toy.

His men, his brothers, they had all fallen.

All of them, tossed aside like little more than the dust they were.

By this corpse lover.

By this child.

By this _human._

He was forced to his knees, unable to stand.

The woman held her flaming sword high, preparing to end the sorcerer…

…when she stopped.

**_“Are you sure, my lord?”_ **

**_…_ **

**_“It is your will.”_ **

She began to shine with a new will, the light searing his flesh and soul.

**_“Let this one’s soul be cleansed!”_ **

The blade came down upon him, his eyes closed ready for the end.

But it never came.

He awoke to a golden floor.

All around him he could feel the thrum of _power,_

Not the magic of a sorcerer, not the presence of a daemon.

But _true, unrestrained, **power.**_

He looked up, once more on his knees, to see a sight unimaginable.

Before him sat a skeleton upon a golden throne.

Before him sat a lie that could not be true.

Before him sat a burning pyre of damnation.

Fear.

Horror.

Love.

Regret.

He felt them all.

The beings great skeletal hand reached out to him, something clasped in its hand.

He wanted to know what it held.

He **needed** to know what it held.

Fingers once clasped, opened, and within its palm sat a soul.

 **HIS** soul.

With shaking arms, Meto received his soul, disbelief consuming his mind. He could do not but stare into the cleansed flame before him.

Finally, he looked to the **Emperor** , his **Master,** once more, and knew what must be done.

A ritual.

A spell.

A _chance._

Now, he was almost done,

One last piece.

One last moment.

One last thought.

It clicked into place.

And his mind was no more.

He awoke to snow and cold.

Confused, he stood from the ground and took in this world.

It was almost…normal.

No burning skies.

No wails of pain.

No tainted air.

This world…Was untainted.

He felt for the strings of power and felt nothing. 

No, that’s not right.

He felt _something._

Yes, there it was! The power that fed this world…

_‘Ah, I see now, what you have done here.’_

He looked behind him, at the great cityscape.

_‘I see now, what you have planned.’_

He began sifting through the souls of thousands.

_‘I see now, what you wish of me.’_

He knew.

He knew what he must do.

He must repent for his people crimes, for their _failure._

Prospero, the burned, the destroyed, the desecrated. Torn apart by warp and wolf.

But now.

But here.

There was no such force.

Here, knowledge would thrive.

Here, magic would build.

Here, life could breathe.

This world…no… **Prospero** would become a haven for humanity.

**For it was the Emperors will.**

The transformation of this world would be slow, so he did what he did best.

Schemed.

First, he would need to normalize magic and its practices.

For that, he would need a student.

He pulled at the world’s strings once more and found what he was after.

He shifted the worlds power, hiding himself from sight, as he walked the streets towards his target.

The people here reminded him of his home. His true home.

They wandered the streets without worry, dressed as they wished, knowing that tomorrow wouldn’t be spent slaving away at some dark factory.

He could feel the knowledge in their minds. The information, the longing to learn.

_‘My emperor has crafted this world perfectly. I am honored to soon rebuild it.’_

The path had grown tired now, as so too, had the sun, a shattered moon taking over the sky.

The snow laden streets of this floating city had emptied, yet a single spark remained.

The spark he sought.

He found them, crying on the ground, curled in a ball.

He knelt to the white-haired child before him.

“Tell me, child. What makes you cry so?”

They looked up to him, seeing right through his illusions.

A sniffle, “It doesn’t matter.” He let out weakly.

The old sorcerer chuckled.

“Oh, but I think it does. Someone born to this world should be happy, not sorrowful. Tell me, young one, what harms you?”

Whitely Schnee

~~~~~~~~~~

He looked up into the blue man’s helmet. He knew he should be scared, or worried, by a stranger, but something about him radiated calm.

He thought, for a second, about why he was here, in this empty lot away from the house.

Wiess, his sister, had abandoned him.

It didn’t matter that she was ‘going to beacon’, or ‘Wanted to see the world’. The truth was, she had left him alone in the mansion.

His mother was a drunk, his father was obsessed with work, and his eldest sister was a soldier. All he had left was Weiss, and now she was gone too.

“Ah, I see”

He looked up to the giant.

“You were abandoned.”

He could feel the pity and sorrow in the giant’s voice.

_‘wait…’_

“Can you read my mind?!” He shouted in shock.

The giant let out a jovial laugh, “HA, of course I can! You have left it unguarded and unshielded. For a second, I thought you **wanted** me to read it.”

He looked in horror, _‘If this guy can read my mind then he can…wait…how is he reading my mind?’_

“And there, my child, is the question you should be asking. How _did_ I read your mind?”

It looked into the sky, dramatically rubbing its helmed chin.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated” Cocking their head to the side, “No, I doubt a child like you would understand, best for you to head home now.”

The giant turned around, walking off, before whitely shouted after them.

“HEY! I’m not just some kid! I can learn!”

They stopped walking away, but did not turn.

“Hmmm. Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Ya I’m sure! Show me how to do that stuff!”

“Hmmm, well if your sure, I guess I have no other choice.”

Whitely let out a scream of joy, while jumping up in victory.

Sorcerer Meto

~~~~~~~~~~

It was easy.

A child’s mind is always so easy.

No defenses.

No warnings.

No resistance.

He began to wonder if he even needed magic to convince the kid to learn.

Animated actions, reverse psychology, a calming voice. That’s all he really needed.

And now, he had completed his first step.

What he needed to do next, was teach them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter, less comedy oriented, chapter to introduce Meto, the regretful Thousand sons sorcerer.


	3. Interrogations and deuls

Priest Errant

\------------------

This world’s security systems weren’t bad.

They were abysmal.

Errant and Kaphail had been left in some sort of lobby while Ruby was interviewed, a lobby that just so happens to have a free computer terminal. After making sure there was no recording software, they began their work. In the span of seconds, he had downloaded a mass of information; Locations, names, government systems, they were all collected and filed within his mental cogitator. The encryptions used were of such low quality that nothing was hidden from him.

“Errant, what is the status of this world?”, Kaphail said from behind, arms crossed next to the wall. His weapons were still on him, his power sword, shield, and bolter all ready for action should they find themselves in conflict.

By all accounts, they really should have relievd them of their weapons. Having two heavily armed men just sitting in your lobby _really_ isn’t a good idea.

_‘Theoretical: They belived us to hold some form of rank, likely this hunter title.’_

_‘Practical: Our chances of escape, should things turn sower, have risen dramatically.’_

“Appears to be a lost colony world. Semi-advanced tech grade, but no ability to leave the planet or get any real form of communication out. Sources state that the creatures we fought are called ‘Grimm’, and they appear to cover the world. I have downloaded and sent your helmets cogitator a full catalogue of them. In terms of their ability to contact the imperium, we are out of luck. They seem completely unable to escape the worlds atmosphere due to their primary energy source failing to function off world.”

It always felt weird to have his cog-brain in control. No emotion, no spirit, just calm monotone information, but it was times like these when it was useful to do so. When your lost on an un-known world, with no supplies or reinforcements, a mind of pure logic was a life saver.

“Humph” The Veteran made a noise behind him. “If that’s the case, claiming to be imperial agents may bring us more harm than otherwise…are there any means by which we can appear as normal inhabitants?”

A quick search through this world’s knowledge banks brought the answer they sought.

“Theoretical: Our damaged armor and equipment can be passed off as damage sustained while wandering the wilds. Our lack of full documentation can be explained due to us living in Mistral as sell swords. Augmentations and technology can be explained by us having originated from Atlas. As for our more ‘religious’ practices…this world is not graced by the Emperor, in fact, religion appears to be all but non-existent. We could claim to have been a secluded religious sect, but…until we have more information, we should keep quiet.”

“Practical: There will be multiple holes in the story, and suspicion will be raised, but they will be unable to act without meaningful evidence. I have sent all necessary data to your helm.”

Kaphial looked to the side for a second, obviously going over the information they had received, before responding. “Understood. Well done Priest, now, prepare yourself. We will likely be questioned, and it would be best if your flesh were in charge. While your mechanical mind is useful for battle and labor, I find it ill-suited for manners such as these.” He seemed to pause for a second, considering something. “…And dull your pain receptors, we don’t know what tactics they will use for our _interrogation’_.”

_Theore- gah! Turning this off is never fun. I’m ganna have a headache for hours now…_

Rubbing their head, Errant sat down on one of the rooms benches, waiting for his mind to return in full, the effects of his cog-brain wearing him down. The jarring nature of such a switch always put him out.

The door opened a while later, Ruby jumping through it with sparkles in her eyes.

As in, real, actual, sparkles in her eyes.

Hopefully that was a visual hallucination from his switch. Going to this worlds psych ward would not be fun.

Standing from his seat, he waved to her, “Greetings Ruby! How’d the interrogation go? Was it as dramatic as you were hoping?” She had regaled to him about how in all her holo-dramas, the interrogations were scary, action packed and, most importantly, inefficient.

“YES! And even better, I got into Beacon!” She squealed this while practically running around the room in glee.

The hell was, oh. Yes that was the name of the nearby schola, wasn’t it.

“Well done Ms. Rose. I am certain the local schola will be honored to have you. May you prosper on the battlefield. As they say, walk softly, and carry a big gun. I believe you fit the saying more than most, hmm?” Kaphail said, chuckling softly against the wall.

A man in a green suit walked through the door, ushering Ruby out into the main area of the precinct, before turning to the two.

“Good evening, I am Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon academy, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, Mr…Kaphail, was it? Could you please follow me?” He turned around, walking back into the Interrogation room, and with a short nod to Errant, Kaphail walked after.

\------------------

Veteran Kaphail

\------------------

The room was spartan in appearance.

Rockrete walls, a single metal table, 2 chairs, and a glass window. The window appeared to be a reflective surface, but he wouldn’t be a veteran if he thought it was the same from the other side.

Of course, the lack of interrogation equipment was, in itself, akin to the ‘window’. They gave the false illusion that you were safe and alone, that you should not prepare for the worst.

Fools they were, they must believe he would be so easily tricked.

“Ah, its only now that I realize these chairs may not be big enough for you. My apologies.”, Ozpin looked guiltily towards him.

Theoretical: Ozpin has done this on purpose to falsify a sign of weakness.

“No matter. I am fully capable of standing.”, he said, walking to the opposite side of the table.

He recognized the movement, recognized the actions. This was a manipulator, a holder of power.

They could not be trusted.

“Well then, if your certain… shall we begin?”

A short nod from Kaphail, and he begins his interrogation.

“First things first, what is your first and last name?”

“Kaphail Archenzo.”

“What is your place of birth?”

“Atlas badlands.”, He had absorbed the fake identity Errant had sent him.

“Most recent location of residence?”

“Mistral swamplands.”

“And finally, what are your reasons for being here?”

“My son and I are traveling swords for hire. While we occasionally settle down, we tend to move from place to place, taking on any purge missions we come across. Vale is little more than our most recent stop.” A believable story, but it would limit their time in this settlement.

Ozpin sat silent for a moment, before speaking, “Well then, the lack of records on you make a bit more sense. Have you thought of staying here in vale for a more…long lasting, period of time?”

He was luring him into a trap…

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, I am the headmaster of the local huntsmen academy. Very recently, one of my combat instructors resigned, and I could use a replacement.” He scratched his chin before continuing. “From what you have said, you have managed to survive in the wilds for an incredibly long period of time, add on your weaponry and armor, I’m certain you would make a good fit among my staff. Of course, your son would be granted a chance to enter, should he pass the examination.”

…And there was the bait.

It was certainly a trap, but not one without gain. The scholas seemed to have the same, if not more, power than the kingdoms governments. A position within one could benefit them. Of course, this would massively restrict them, and they would have a watchful eye everywhere they went.

Folding his arms, he began to speak, “I will need time to think on this, and, of course, my sons affirmation of this action.”

“Understood, there is still a week until initiation, so there is plenty of time to decide.”

With that, Ozpin opened the door to leave, signaling for Kaphail to do the same.

\------------------

Priest Errant

\------------------

While Ozpin had interrogated Kaphail, Errant was sitting with the woman from before.

“Greetings”, she said, “I am Professor Goodwitch of beacon academy, could I have your first and last name for the record?”

“Errant Castor.”

“Hmm. I assume you are not biologically his child?”

“No”

Remember what Kaphail said, don’t give more information than needed.

Oh, and if things go poorly, blindly firing at them may be an ineffective strategy.

“Understood. Now, Headmaster Ozpin has extended you and your father an opportunity; Your father would work as a teacher at the academy, while you would attend. Do you find this deal immediately objectionable?”

Yes, Lord Kaphail had told him about this.

“Not at the moment, but time to consider our options would be appreciated.” He responded.

“I see. Well, the main purpose of this interview is to discuss your…augments.”

Ahhh, there we go. The **real** reason they were here.’

“While cybernetics are not too un-common, you must understand the…oddity, that are yours. Extra arms, inverted legs, and a bladed tail being the most noteworthy. While we can certainly produce replacements for lost parts, creating all new parts and functions is beyond us. Would you be willing to tell us how you received these cybernetics?”

Lie: Will not be singled out as a target but will likely be studied extensively.

Truth: Will be able to improve and maintain all current cybernetics but will likely be sought out by governmental bodies.

Oh, damn it all

“I made them myself.”

The woman seemed taken aback by his response, “You…made them yourself?

“Yes, the arms and legs function on a purely unique framework, having required extensive reworking of my nervous system and mental abilities, the tail on the other hand merely replaces my original.”

“I…see, well…that is certainly interesting.” She stopped then, lost in thought, before continuing. “Either way, you shouldn’t have to worry about any form of discrimination or pestering while in vale.”

While in vale…how well put.

She began tapping her pen on the table, lost in thought. “How did you come across the knowledge of how to…make these? Even in Atlas, this is an incredible feat.”

“Well…I don’t enjoy speaking on these things, but… I used to be part of a, shall we call it, _cult_.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide with interest.

“We were a secluded bunch, obsessed with technology to an…extreme, level. Are you aware of the term ‘transhumanism’?”

Goodwitch slowly closed her eyes, sighing, before stating, “Now, I believe that is all for this meeting, have a good day Mr. Castor”

\------------------

Ozpin

\------------------

They were lying, there was no doubt about it.

The timing was too convenient. They just happened to show up when the silver eyed girl was attacked, they just happened to have some of the best technology he had yet seen, and they just happened to have the skills to match.

These were not just some duo of wanderers or bandits; they were trained killers. Every movement, every word, every tool they held affirmed this. The calculated way they answered questions, the air of lethality that followed them, the unreasonably deadly weapons they carried.

What mere hunter requires a serrated tail?

That was never in question, what bothered him was; who do they work for?

Specialists sent from another kingdom? Atlas could fit with their technology, but he was sure ironwood was a stable ally.

White Fang? The kid was a Faunus, but the man was an un-known.

Salem? She had done this before, but why would they assist Ruby, and not just attack her?

No matter what, he needed to keep an eye on them. Qrow was already deployed, taking care of Amber, so he was out of the question. They had used the claim of “Wanderers “so they obviously weren’t likely to stay in one place.

He loathed using his school like this, but it was his only chance to keep them where he could see them.

Of course, there was Glynda. The look she was giving him foretold his imminent demise.

He was going to have to deal with that, wasn’t he?

\------------------

Veteran Kaphail

\------------------

By the time they left the precinct, the sun had begun to rise.

Lucky then, that neither needed to sleep as humans did

“Errant, what do you think of our options?”

“Well,” the young priest said, fiddling with their equipment, “Only that there isn’t one. Either we go to beacon, or we keep wandering around aimlessly. Atlas is a no go, as they’ll likely try to tear us apart, minstral is almost entirely unnoteworthy, so we couldn’t get much done there, and Vacou is tiny.”

“Hmm. This bodes ill with me. There must be something more occurring, or else why would a simple Headmaster be so interested in us?”

The problem had been on both their minds for hours now; Why was Ozpin so interested?

“Well, if our decision is made then it is best to inform them. Errant, where-“

“Done”

Kaphail stood still, looking at the priest.

“What do you mean-…oh, yes, the ‘scroll’ was it?” He said, remembering the odd pieces of glass Ozpin had handed them.

“Yes, quite a nifty tool. Instant messaging, a constant link to this worlds version of the noosphere, and a wealth of maps and information, I’m surprised they managed to fit that in a small piece of glass. Investigating this worlds technology will certainly be one of my biggest undertakings yet! Not to mention what _I_ can bring. Think about it; this world has a massive wealth of resources and machinery; I could be responsible for the creation of a forge world!”

Well, at the very least Errant is excited. He was hoping his first excursion would be simple. A quick purge, or a scouting trip, not…this. They had been through fights before, boarding actions, defending forges on besieged worlds, but the child had yet to go on a _true_ mission.

With a sigh of resignation, he allowed Errant to lead the way to where they were to once again meet the Headmaster.

\------------------

Glynda Goodwitch

\------------------

The two people in front of her couldn’t be more out of place.

On one hand, you had the seven-foot-tall bringer of death. A scowling mask under a golden laurel, a bleeding heart over checkerboard, gold ornaments over yellow. His armor bore the scratches and marks of a veteran, someone who had weaved death through a hundred battlefields, with weapons to match. His massive sword, as a tall as a person, glowed with a horrid energy; his giant shield large enough to stop any blow, no matter how strong; and his infernal gun, which looked like it could tear a man in half with one shot, aura and all.

His partner was no less odd, but at the same time, in a completely seperate way. 4 sleeves came from red-hooded robes beneath steel plating. 4 arms extended from his shoulders and sides, clawed fingers at their ends. A bladed tail wrapped itself around his waist, and 2 inverted legs, hidden from sight beneath his robes. The two vibrating daggers sat in their sheathes, the right over his shoulder, the left on his abdomen, the two pistols at the end of his spine. He looked utterly _inhuman_.

She had seen them the night before, but the effect of seeing them in daylight still hit her hard. The shadows could hide so much that light revealed.

The orders from Ozpin were clear: Escort the two to Beacon, give them a tour, prepare Kaphail for teaching, make Ozpin some coffee, and buy some makeup for his newly minted black eye.

“Uh, mam.” one of the dock workers said from behind her, “Bullheads ready to take y’all up.”

“Understood, if you two will follow me.” She walked onto the aircraft, _feeling_ as the yellow giant came on after her. Despite the near silence of his footfalls, the sheer weight of him caused the ground to shake.

She couldn’t bring herself to be as…welcoming, as she usually was with new staff, the frustration of the night before still at the forefront of her mind.

What had Ozpin been thinking, risking his students like this! They were inviting killers into their school!

Sitting on the Bullheads right side, she watched as Kaphail and his _son ‘Bullshit’,_ sat opposite her. She had been expecting them to take in the view, or discuss the school, or do _anything_ normal, but they just sat there. Not a word passed between them, not a glance away, not a single twitch. Utter stillness. The longer she was around them, the less human they felt.

\------------------

Priest Errant

\------------------

He had to admit, the worlds technology was _incredibly_ convenient.

The devices he had placed in both their helmets were testament to that. Using the ‘scroll’ as an inspiration, he had developed a small internal com link between them. Normally vox sets would be massive, and let out a burst of static whenever used, but now, they could communicate without detection! With both their helmets being soundproof, and the new link making no noise of its own, they had spent the entire ride to beacon conversing with Ms. Goodwitch none the wiser.

Of course, spending the whole ride over in silence had creeped the woman out, but if there was one thing he learned while being taught the secrets of machinery; it was that your teacher was an asshat who deserved to be fucked with at every opportunity.

Many people _‘Cough, Lord Kaphail, Cough’,_ saw such action as immature, but he saw it as a sign of true maturity. The effort, the skill, the knowledge, to best your teacher without them being able to retaliate was that of the truly devoted.

Now, did Kaphail know he was taking part in this trick? Of course not-

“Yes”

…

What

“Errant, you’ve been monologuing into the vox for nearly ten minutes”

“…Fuck”

“Language”

Said ten minutes had been spent in complete boredom, following Glynda around the school.

Why did they even need a tour?! THEY HAVE MAPS!

The sights were what was expected; a statue or two, a barracks or ‘dorm’ as it was called here, a training ground, an armory, and an incredibly gaudy building that the headmaster lived in. The latter of which was the clocktower they now stood before.

‘Beacon Tower’, a building of majesty, craftmanship, and a giant clock.

What a good use of time and resources. He was sure none of that could have been used to help fight the grimm, no, let us use it on a fucking clock tower.

All he cared about was the forge. The home of all Tech Priests, mechanists, and weaponsmiths. He had many more projects than his com link; Hybrid dust rounds, new weapons, augments, _blatant tech heresy_. Not that anyone would know, of course.

“That should be it for the tour”, his attention snaps back to Glynda as she finishes up her lecture, having moved onto the arena, “Now, Errant, I need to brief Kaphail on his duties here, you may wander the school as you see fit in the meantime.”

That was all he needed to hear before storming the forge.

\------------------

Veteran Kaphail

\------------------

It was times like these that Kaphail realized how truly young Errant was.

Seeing the child run off with such giddiness reminded him of the early days of the chapter, when they had the ability to actually _save_ people, and not just heard them onto transport shuttles. When children would laugh and play under the marines watch, their parents resting under the great golden banners.

How much they had lost.

\------------------

Priest Errant

\------------------

The forge was disappointing.

Excessively so.

When he had been informed of its sheer _size_ , he had expected it to be a place of true creation. Metal ingots waiting for the blazing fire, blueprints lining the walls, benches of the highest quality of which one would use to create the greatest if weapons.

But no. What he found was a large room filled with a dozen or so mid-quality forges, and a set of wooden work benches.

_Wooden. Benches. In a fucking forge filled with volatile ammunition._

No matter. Disappointing or not, he had work to do.

He needed range, and he wanted to see what dust would do to a galvanic rifle.

\------------------

Glynda Goodwitch

\------------------

“Mr. Archenzo, if you would follow me into the ring”, She said, walking down into the circle. Upon reaching the other side, she pulled out her riding crop.

“A duel? Ha! A fine way to judge a new member!” He declared, apparently breaking the odd stupor he had been in during their walk.

She frowned at him, hands on her hips, “I would prefer you didn’t mock our traditions, Mr. Archenzo.”

“You misunderstand”, he said, drawing his sword, “There was no mockery in my words, only _zeal!”_

Glynda was given no time to prepare as Kaphail charged her, his shield slamming into her face. She was sent skidding across the ground, barely able to recover from the blow. The world seemed to spin as she stood, the shock blurring her vision.

On instinct she jumped to the left, narrowly dodging a swing of his glowing sword, realizing he had covered the span of the arena in a mere few seconds.

She needed to make distance, NOW! She would not win if she stayed in melee.

Using her semblance, she hurled herself away from him, tearing massive stones from the ground. The second she landed, she hurled her new weapons towards her enemy, watching in horror as they were reduced to harmless dust.

She chided herself on her narrow sight, remembering the beast of a gun he held, which, In the brief nanosecond it took her to summon those rocks, he had drawn and fired.

She pulled pillars out of the ground, desperately blocking the flurry of shots that came after, the debris creating a cloud of dense dust. She only knew he began to charge because of the shear _wight_ he held when doing so, each mighty stomp shaking the entire arena.

As he broke through the fog, she had an idea, a risky one, but it may grant her victory, nonetheless.

She used every last shard of power within her to begin pulling away his sword and shield. His grip and strength were unmatched, yet, she had slowly began to over power him…

…before he simply let go.

She was thrown off balance by the sudden loss of pressure, not noticing as he began to walk towards her…

…though she certainly felt his fist slam into her.

The world went white, as she, for the first time, felt true peace. But it was not to last, as she was shocked from her daze by the boot that slammed into her stomach, and the sword pressed against her neck.

She heard the beast chuckle before saying, “If I am not mistaken Ms. Goodwitch, I believe I have won our little bout. Don’t you aggree?”

\------------------

Ozpin

\------------------

The fight worried him.

He had seen people have close calls with Glynda, even beat her occasionally, but he had never seen someone truly _humiliate_ her like that.

He dared not even call it a fight, the victor was never in question.

The speed, the strength, the skill.

He flinched as he watched over the footage again, watching as one fist closed over her head, while the other pulled back. The force of that blow alone had been great enough to instantly shatter her aura.

Aura, that was the worst part. He had never used aura.

Every feat he had performed was done without aura.

_‘What the hell is this thing…’_


	4. Dust and Souls

Whitley Schnee

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could feel them.

All of them.

Every maid and butler.

Every guard and soldier.

Every plant and animal.

The strands of their souls, billowing in the air, told him _so much_.

So many secrets.

So many lies.

And it was all thanks to Master Meto.

“Well done. I can _see_ your will spreading amongst the manor. Each tendril squirming into their little heads. You have promise, my child, promise that has gone ignored for far too long.” The giant sorcerer circled around him; each foot fall utterly silent despite his size.

He kept probing.

The worms in the dirt.

The bushes in the garden.

The birds in the sky.

The corpses in the…

He sat up in shock, reeling from what he had felt. _Death._ Within the storage spaces of the manor sat the souls of the dead. Inert, asleep, hidden. But how? He had passed them a hundred times! How had this happened!?

“Master Meto-!”

“Yes, indeed, my child. How odd that so many souls reside in this place. Its not often one finds the dead in a place of life.” The sorcerer said, as though reading his mind…

_‘wait… **can** he read my mind?’_

“Yes, I can.” He looked to Meto with wide eyes, while the sorcerer chuckled out, “Mind reading is a fairly advanced skill, but to one such as me, it is as easy as raising a finger. Do not fret, you too, shall learn in time. Now then, shall we investigate these fallen souls?”

Meto held his great hand out to him, his voice more amused than worried. Grabbing the sorcerers hand he walked out into the hall towards the nearest storage room, countless workers passing them by without a word, unable to see the blue giant.

Walking about the halls, hand in hand, reminded him of his earlier years…

_He and Weiss were running through the halls laughing, having just played a prank on Klein. A bucket on top of a door, simple, yet effective._

_The butler jokingly ran after the two, making increasingly more ludicrous oaths of vengeance against the two._

_His halfhearted running allowed them to keep the lead, while not leaving him behind entirely._

Whitely could feel the soul’s presence grow more and more potent as they drew near, a nondescript door hiding the horror within. He slowly reached for the handle, fearing what he may see…

Nothing.

There was nothing.

It was just a normal closet. No bodys, no rituals, no murderers. Juts some brooms, jackets and…

“What is Dust? Such a simple question, is it not? And yet, it perplexes all those upon this world. I ask you, child, what do you see before you?” Meto said, gesturing towards the closet.

“I…see dust.”

_He remembered them being hidden in here._

_He, Weiss, and a slightly less mature Winter had begun hiding vials of Dust all around the house. Officially, they were banned from touching the volatile crystals, the family having feared for their safety, but that matter naught to them._

_The Dust would be used for pranks, toys, and turning the tv back on after Klein had turned it off for bed._

“Hmm” Disappointment evident in his voice, the giant tries again, “Is that all? Is there anything else? Tell me, what do you _feel?_ ”

He felt, casting his will around the world around him. Once again, he felt the souls of every worker and animal, their minds whispering to him, and again, he felt the presence of fallen souls…

Exactly where the dust canisters were.

“What the…” He muttered in confusion, brows furrowing.

“I find it so amusing, this worlds use of souls” He looked back to the sorcerer, one eyebrow raised. “In other realms they would be reincarnated, devoured, or destroyed, but not here.” Grabbing a vial of fire dust, Meto began inspecting it from behind his helm.

“Here, my child, the soul is bound to the world, crystalized and contained deep underground. The soul becomes raw energy waiting to be released. This world is fueled by its dead.”

He could feel them. The souls. Pure, undiluted power.

“But”

Whitely looked back up to the sorcerer.

“This also hinders them. With the souls as they are, humanity has lost its sorcery.” Meto set the vial down, standing to full height. “The people cannot call upon them for power, they cannot perform rituals of healing, they cannot create great walls to protect. The only thing they may do, is utilize the souls as little more than base weapons.”

He thought about what he had learned, the souls and humanity loss, but something horrifying came to mind.

“Meto, if these are peoples souls…then aren’t we killing them?!” He began to hyperventilate at the thought, that he had been abusing the souls of the dead, stealing their chance at rest.

A heavy hand fell upon his shoulder, the giant having knelt once more. He couldn’t see their face, but they emanated a…warmness, calming him. It reminded him of his sister, winter, when she would calm him from a fit.

_“But I don’t want Weiss to go! What am I going to do without her?!” He cried, having just learned of where his sister was to go. “If she leaves, I’ll be by myself!” Despite his age, he still cried for his loss, his sister having been his one escape from their father._

_Winter put a hand upon his shoulder and looked him in the eyes._

_“Whitely, I understand your anger, but this is for the best. Wiess needs to get out, to see the world. One day, you will leave as well. While she may be gone, it wont be for long, at most it will only be a few months before she visits.”_

_She hugged him then, his cries having fallen down to sniffles._

_“But, what if she doesn’t want to?” He let his worst fear arise, “What if she likes it there better and doesn’t want to come back?”_

_Winter chuckled and released the hug, once again looking him in the eyes._

_“Well. In that case, Ill just have to drag her back, now wont I?_

That had been weeks ago, Weiss having left early to tour vale.

He flashed back to the present, realizing Meto had begun to speak.

“You needn’t worry, my child, these souls are devoid of who they once were. You see, the soul is merely an entity’s power, not its life. In fact, there are humans without souls, called blanks.”

Whitely lowered his head in thought as they both stood.

“Well…I guess that makes it better.” He said, walking back to his room. “But! We should at least show them some respect, I feel it inappropriate to treat them so... _callously_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was midday before anyone came to see him. Klein entering the room.

“Young Whitely, are you alright?” Whitely started in shock, having been consumed by his studies. “You’ve spent the past few days inside.”

Klein closed the door behind him, giving Whitely a worried look.

“I’m fine. Just been studying is all.” He said, leaning back over his papers.

The answer didn’t seem to please the man, the frown growing deeper.

“Hmm, in any case, I believe it best if you went on an excursion today.”

“Klein, its fine, im busy-“

“I was thinking it may be good to go by the dust store again.” Klein said, cutting him off.

Whitely froze, hand hovering over his pen.

“And uh, why do you want me to come along? It’s not like you need my help or anything.” He begged whatever god watched over him that Klein didn’t see right through him.

“Well, I was thinking you would enjoy looking at all the new weapons, maybe deciding on what you will use come your time, and…” Klein paused in thought, “I think you may want to see Capra-“ He was silenced by the heavy sound of a book being slammed shut.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Whitely shouted, his face being over taken by a blush. “But its only to see the new weapons issues!”

Klein smiled “Sure it is, it’s definitely not to-“

“Shut!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorcerer Meto

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How funny it was, seeing how the child acted.

He wondered; had he ever been so taken by a girl? No matter, such thoughts were of little use to him.

What **was** of use to him, were these ‘scrolls’. Nifty little slates that held the worlds information.

He sat alone on the manors roof, looking through the worlds information, searching for anything noteworthy.

A story about a local bakery being granted some reward.

Some getting stuck to a tree.

Some teacher standing next to a space marine.

Grimm herds moving- 

Wait.

He looked back to the new post.

_‘Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon academy hires on new teacher.’_

Standing next to ‘Ozpin’ was unmistakably a space marine. His yellow armor at first brought to mind the Fists, but the thought was quelled by the bleeding heart on his chest.

Not only that…

There it was, the cloaked figure of a Techpriest.

The ritual had spoken of such things, claiming to _‘bring the Angels bleeding heart, the beasts metal mind, the faithful’s heretical soul, and the traitors sorrowful form.’_

_‘So… a space marine belonging to the Angel, a Techpriest born as a beast, and a traitor seeking redemption…who yet remains?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer (bout a week)  
> I was super busy with exams, so I didn't have much time to write.


	5. A sister and a murder

**Sorry about this one taking longer, I had issues with how to organize events (Couldn’t tell where to start) and was considering how dark I would allow this to get. Im also trying out a new writing style where I write in a similar way the character thinks, so if yall notice it being formatted differently, that’s why.**

**Raw, Ian Watson --R—MR--Medium, Base RWBY--MW-- Well done, chibi**

**This fic is about medium rare**

**Also, edited a fairly important moment mid chapter.**

Techpriest Errant

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A stroll is what he had called it.

A stroll to stretch his preferred legs before he began using the more ‘human’ set he had thrown together.

Such a simple lie, yet so effective.

He could not wrap his mind around the headmaster. A ‘stroll’?

Had he really believed the claim? Or was this some form of manipulation?

He could have easily shot it down with claims of safety; certainty a mere child should not me strolling about in the dark.

And yet…no questions. No hesitation. Just a quick ‘be safe’.

Was he reckless? Was he planning a trap?

No matter, a problem for later. The signal was of greater importance.

An imperial broadcast on a supposedly lost world. Such a thing could not be ignored, no matter how suspicious.

He had tracked its location to nearby a ‘white fang’ base, the group being some form of insurgency made of abhumans.

If he were being honest, he would have to admit respect for them; It required great courage to stand up against humanity and demand equal treatment.

But respect does not mean he thought them smart. In his eyes, it was a fruitless quest. No matter how much they may do, no matter how many protests, or how many assassinations, they would remain the same. A part of him marveled that they even **thought** they were being mistreated; certainly, being restricted from a few bars and being called names is better than a fire fight starting at the mere **suggestion** of you working with humans. Humans would be humans. Some would be nice to you, others would wish your death, that is simply how things were.

Respect in mind, it was too bad these poor fools may have to die, given what they may hold.

Killing. He never fond of it, but he understood. People simply had to die, there was no way around it. Arrests, bribes, punishments, they all took time and rarely, if ever, truly worked. Of course, this worlds laws restricted him from killing just anyone, as they should mind you, but that did not reach to an insurgency like this. Their deaths would be of little note, and an investigation would be half assed at most.

Still, this would have to be clean, while the enforcers would turn a blind eye to some dead abhumans, they may actually put effort in if the scene is too brutal.

Well, good thing his primary weapons are daggers.

He dashed towards the warehouse the insurgents were housed in, a cloaking field hiding him from sight.

Was the cloak modified xenos tech, and therefore heresy?

Yes.

Did he care?

No.

The decrees against xenos tech, and advancement of tech in general, were foolish. The plasma gun was a great example: The constantly malfunctioning gun could be easily redesigned far safer, but the rules stated they **had** to be made in such a way that if the wielder sneezed, they would explode.

A good show of the ingenuity advancement brought were the two corpses now hidden in a vent.

He had simply hopped over the fence and walked up behind them, both unaware he existed, then shoved his transonic razors straight into their spines. Other than the dull hum of the blades, the entire altercation was silent.

Heartbeat scans had shown a mere twenty defenders.

Or, well, eighteen now.

The next insurgent to die revealed how poorly trained they were, the goat like abhuman near blackout drunk on duty. If anything, killing that one may not have been necessary, but precautions are precautions.

He pitied these abhumans, he really did.

He had once known the righteous anger they did, he had once believed that kindness or rebellion would bring him respect.

Of course, only one of his arms was intentionally replaced.

The other was done after a plasma shot turned it to sludge. The first of many lessons about how abhumans were to be treated.

Three more down.

He had climbed onto the ceiling above them, dropped down, and had slit the first onse throat before they even knew what happened.

The seconds eyes had widened before a humming blade went through his heart

The third had begun to cry out when a tail had slashed its blades across his throat.

He had been dragging the body’s away when an alarm had been tripped.

The alarms blaring overhead, he had dropped the stealth field and brought his guns up, ready for a fight…

That never came.

The sounds of gun fire could be heard from deeper within the base, whatever was fighting the fang was winning, if the drop in heartbeats was to signal anything.

No matter, might as well thin the herd while they were distracted, the assailant could be dealt with after.

He charged a panicked insurgent, slicing off an arm with his right, then stabbing him through the heart with his left.

The other two nearby had little chance to react, before a bast of radiation melted one, and the other…

Funny thing about macro-Stubbers, despite the name, they are far from your normal “slug” based weapons. Rather than using an explosive discharge to far the bullet, the Macro-Stubber uses a set of magnets to blast the projectile forth.

In other words; a railgun.

Now, how much of a man’s chest would be left after taking a direct hit from such a weapon?

The heart beats were dropping fast. A mere 4 remained, not including the un-known.

Scratch that, 3.

The commander seemed to be dueling the fighter, while his two remaining subordinates ran for help.

Too bad Errant was there to greet them.

A gamma shot to the head, and a razor to the gut had them down permanently.

He was about to turn around when a fist of iron grabbed him by the back of his robes, pulling him from the ground. He prepared all systems for the blow, when-

“…Errant?”

Wait, that sounded like…

“Oh no”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sister Ogriah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world of Theta IV was lost, of that she was certain.

She had been deployed, alongside her sisters, to aid in an inquisitor’s investigation. An investigation that came all too late.

From the under hives came scores of cultists, mutants, and lesser daemons, the dark red skin revealing them as worshippers of the blood god. The flayed skins of both innocents and gangers were held high, strapped to poles like great banners in the wind. A dull roar was ever present upon the world, tearing at the minds of the weak, and driving bloodlust into the desperate. Death was soon to take all, the innocent, the inquisitor, the sisters.

No matter. They would fight on regardless.

The unholy screech that came from one of the more deformed cultists tore her from her thoughts, leveling her flamer, she let out a burst of promethium, ending its wretched existence.

Already her ammunition was running low, the unending hordes never giving her a second’s respite. One after another, they charged her without care for their own body’s, dyeing where they stood for the sole purpose of slowing them down.

Six sisters were sent down.

Now only two remained.

“Keep them back! We need to find the main ritual sight to shut this down or else all is lost!” The inquisitor shouted; his voice ragged with fatigue.

The three marched forwards through the horde, every blast tearing them apart.

She looked up to see some form of projectile hit the ground, then everything go white.

She was vaguely aware of being thrown from her feet by a great force but couldn’t make sense of reality.

As the light dulled, and the ringing dimmed, she became aware of the inquisitor laying next to her, or rather, what was left of him.

His body had been torn in half, and what remained was horribly charred. Bits of flesh melted off his face, as his implants began to smoke.

She shoved the corpse of her and took note of the situation: The inquisitor was dead, and both of her sisters were unresponsive, likely sharing the same fate.

Only as she mourned above her fallen sisters, did she realize the pain stabbing into her. Looking down to her stomach, she saw a jagged piece of shrapnel had broken its way through her power armor.

“Well,” she said weakly, “That isn’t good…”

Pulling the shard out and drawing her chainsword, she charged the horde…

And the world went silent.

And the world drew still.

And the world shone gold.

In the but a second, everything ended…

And everything came into focus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 days Later…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days.

She had been trudging through a daemon filled forest for _two fucking days._

To say she was sick of it would be an understatement; damaged armor, low ammo for her sidearm, and a half-beaten chain sword were all she had going for her.

Now, of course, this isn’t too big a problem for a well-trained sister of battle…

Didn’t stop it from being annoying though.

Not to mention the ones who were watching her.

The thing is, these daemons didn’t have heartbeats, but her stalkers did. The sensors added to her helmet proved invaluable

She would have to thank her little friend when she saw him again. Though, that may be a bit difficult as she had no idea where the hell she was.

Though it wasn’t exactly safe, she had begun sending out emergency broadcasts in an attempt to meet **some** sort of imperial presence, but no luck so far.

Despite her situation, she had to persevere.

For her order.

For her sisters.

For _herself._

The sun had fallen by the time she found a sign of civilization, a weak chain link gate on the outside of a featureless building.

There were no guards despite the structure obviously being a base of some kind, given by the munitions and armored vehicles simply left in the open. Guns were haphazardly strewn about around shipment crates, and boxes of what appeared to be some form of luminescent ammo sat around at random. Almost everything appeared either damaged or second hand, the paint and-

A heartbeat just went out.

Another two shortly followed.

There had been Eighteen when she had arrived, now there were fifteen.

She wasn’t the only one not supposed to be here.

Well, at least the lack of guards made more sense.

Drawing her chainsword, she charged into the building, tearing a door down with ease…

Right into a room full of hostiles. Cheery.

The first had no time to react as she charged him down, having already decided they were some form of heretic due to the **very** cultish masks, not to mention the fact they had been the ones stalking her. Wonders, truly, what an in-built camera can do for identification.

His head went flying across the room in a spurt of blood, the chainsword having made quick work of his neck.

Understandably, the others were not too pleased with this development.

Too bad they were fighting someone in power armor.

She cut through them like a warm knife through butter…or was it a knife through warm butter? Eh, she didn’t care, all that mattered was that hostiles were dying, and she was not.

“Samson! Oriel! Get the hell out of here and get help!” She watched as two of the cultists ran from the room, their leader blocking her way.

“Human!” He shouted “Ill show you that you shouldn’t fuck with the White Fang!”

He charged her, some sort of poor imitation of a chainsword held high. She brought her own up to meet his chest, but stumbled back.

Some sort of…field, had stopped her.

He brought his weapon down, her barely able to catch the blade with her own.

The fatigue of the past two days without rest began to wear on her, her damaged armor providing little help against the unreasonably strong cultists.

She felt him begin to overpower her, before she felt that touch in the back of her mind.

That touch that commanded her to do one thing.

**_Burn._ **

Her eyes began to glow a dull red as fire spewed from her hands, ingulfing her assailant, his shrieks falling into the night.

His charred corpse fell to the ground, utterly destroyed. Not a single indicator remained that this was ever a living being.

Her pupils grew small as she realized what she had just done.

And what was to come next.

Reality slipped from her, the world diving into a melting realm of colors and whispers. She fell to her knees, desperately trying to fend them off, desperately trying to ignore them.

But it wasn’t working.

Every passing second, they grew louder and louder, stronger and stronger. She felt a decrepit hand grab the back of her head, driving the madness deeper.

They threatened to overpower her, and likely would have, were it not for the presence that had appeared.

The entity, with not but their mind, tore the hand from her head.

All at once, the voices grew quiet, all at once, the world stabilized.

She looked up, to see a blue gauntlet on her shoulder.

The gauntlet of a traitor.

Without a second thought, she revved her chainsword and swung for his midsection.

**“Stop”**

Her every muscle became still, hands still clenched on her blade.

 **“You surprise me, sister.”** The traitor said. **“You bare a power you do not understand, a power you hate, a power you fear.”**

A blue portal appeared within her vision, the traitor walking towards it.

 **“I offer you a gift, young one. I am certain you will find it useful…for the time being.”** And with that, he left, her body going slack.

The whispers returned shortly after, but something within her mind dulled them.

“Gift?!” She shouted, “What kinda sick gift did that damned heretic give me!”

That confirmed it, there was a chaotic presence on the planet. Cheery.

She heard the traitors voice enter her mind.

**“The gift, child, shall protect you until you may protect yourself. Whether you like it or not, you have awoken a volatile power within you. This power will soon consume you, unless… you accept a deal.”**

She stood shocked at his offer. “Are you fucking crazy?! Like hell I would take any deal with a traitor!”

**“Traitor…that is a title I seek to amend. We serve the same Emperor; we serve the same goal. I once erred on my path, fell into the abyss of greed and power, but the Emperor showed me the way. He brought me back into the light and has given me reason once more. Through this, I seek to assist his people, and that starts with you.”**

**“You see, should you go untaught you shall fall to the powers you now bare. There are no other psykers on this planet willing to teach you. You _need_ my knowledge. Without it, you may corrupt all those around you.”**

He was right. She knew how things would go should she go without training. She had seen it for herself; psykers becoming over run with power and tearing holes into the warp.

She despised what she was forced to say.

“I…Accept your deal.”

**“Good. I promise you this, I shall see you _very_ soon. Until then, my power shall protect you”**

His voice grew silent, leaving her to mull over what she had just agreed to.

“N-n-no, I need to think straight. Where are those stragglers?”

She checked her sensors again, to find the two heart beats gone.

In fact, all heart beats were gone.

“That doesn’t make sense,” She mumbled as she left the room, “There should still be…”

Her mumbling stopped as she looked in front of her.

Two bodies, and a red robed figure…

A very **familiar** red robed figure.

The inverted legs and extra arms were not too out of the ordinary, but the feline ear slots on the helmet…

She grabbed him by the back of his robes lifting him into the air, looking into his face plate.

“…Errant?”

“Oh no”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Veteran Kaphail  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He should be back by now” He found himself muttering, having taken his time of rest to run maintenance on his equipment.

The armor bore its typical dents and scratches, signs of regular use, the sword _‘The angels wing’_ Needed to be sharpened, and his combi-bolter required its regular cleaning.

The on-site forges had proven their usefulness in that regard.

He had already run a full investigation into all facilities, searching for cameras, traps, or hidden devices. It had turned up nothing more than the usual set of cameras one would need for the sake of security.

How aggravating.

No matter how cordial the Headmaster acted, he knew something was being hidden. The kind demeaner, the trusting nature, the vague questions that bore no real meaning, there was a secret here, the only problem was **what?**

The boy planned on creating some form of long range scanner to search for some obligatory room or basement, but he knew that was too simple.

 **Far** too simple.

Men like Ozpin did not host their meetings in some hidden chamber, they held them within offices and well-known spaces. The did not hide things away in some secretive fortress, no, they hid them right under your nose.

But **Why?**

Theoretical; Cultist

Practical; This world has no knowledge of chaos.

Theoretical; Xenos consort

Practical; This world has no knowledge of xenos

Theoretical; Corrupt governor or politician

Practical; Most likely case, were it not for his lack of questioning. A politician would seek to cast out potential threats, not keep them close.

A bolt shell fell from the table, falling to the floor.

He went to collect it before stopping. Something was wrong.

He was no longer in the Schola.

He now stood within a vast hallway littered with corpses, both brother Astarte’s, and traitor marines.

The

Something was calling to him, deep within the structure.

His march took hours, a beating in his skull muddling his thoughts and a presence in his mind warping his vision.

The closer he came to the aperture of the great halls the greater a sense of foreboding took him. Every step he took increased the severity of his affliction, and yet he pressed on, unable to stop his own legs.

The body’s increased in number. From singular Astarte’s thrown to the side, to piles of bleeding brothers, to an ocean of dead.

Far ahead, he could hear the faint sound of weapons slamming against one another.

Every strike hit with unmatched force, the fury behind every blow was overwhelming.

He reached the great door, through witch, he knew he would see truth.

He put a hand against the great barrier, and _pushed_ …

Just before he saw what lie within, he was thrown from his vision. Checking his helmets systems, he could tell almost no time had passed, despite how long he marched within his mind.

Then, he saw what had awakened him: An incoming distress call from Errant.

Slamming down on his vox castor, he called out to the priest, “Errant! What is your situation, I shall deploy immedit-!”

 _“PLLEASE FUCKING HELP ME, I CANT BREATH, DESPITE MY LACK OF LUNGS I CANT BREATH!”,_ Errant screamed through the castor, in the background was the faint sound of…cooing?

_“Ah kitty I’ve missed ya! You miss me?”_

“…Errant, please explain your current situation.” He didn’t get paid enough for this. Wait, he didn’t get pa-.

_“As it would seem, Sister Gariah is here as well. Speaking of a certain Sister, It would be very nice to not have my innards crushed by someone wearing power armor!”_

Gariah? Wasn’t that the novice girl with an ‘internship’ from a few years ago? Ugh, he needed to sleep. Not because of fatueg, but because it would let him ignore reality for a minute.

No scheming headmasters, no ‘warp shenanigans’, no Errant getting crushed by an overly happy sister of battle…

He should probably deal with that last one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ozpin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonight was certainly filled with surprises.

First, Glynda finally woke up and threw him out of a window with her semblance, then Errant goes on a ‘stroll’, and now some teenager in power armor covered in blood shows up holding Errant under her arm.

All in all, quite a fun evening.

Well, maybe not the part where he rag dolled on the ground, but other than that, a fun evening.

Then there was the addition to the mystery that was the two -now three- history lacking warriors. From what he could tell with his brief discussion, the girl was an un-known arrival, even to them.

Other than a battered set of armor (a problem that Errant allegedly solved the second they got to the forge) she seemed relatively unharmed, the same could not be said for the white fang.

They had tried to hide it, he knew that, but there was very little that went under his notice around vale.

He had originally intended to have a huntsmen team sent out to round them up and send them to prison, but now, that wouldn’t happen. Given the fact they were dead.

He had taken them to be bad sign, but not **this** bad. Even his worst enemies made a decent effort to hide mass murders, they had just left the bodies there to rot!

He had trained killers before, hell, almost the entirety of his inner circle had killed someone while in school, but this was different. There was no hesitation, no mercy, no respect. He didnt have recordings of the fight, but he didn’t need them. Slit throats, blown out hearts, cleaved off limbs, these were the moves of a trained killer.

Once again, best to have them within sight, lest they do their killing out of sight.

And on the topic of killing…

He could tell there was no malicious intent here. Had that been the case, they would have been gloating, showing off, strutting around with bravado, but no. They moved like soldiers, always on guard, always ready for a fight…

What had they been through? Body modifications, battle scars, the eyes of those who have seen true horror. He had only gazed upon this in war veterans, not children!

Could they be agents of Salem? Still maybe. They seemed like those she would go after…but they way they looked. The innocence that remained… they couldn’t have joined her. Not yet, at least.

He still didn’t know their origins, but he could piece it together; they were both zealots.

Gariah, despite the others trying to hush her, kept speaking of her god. Talking about how he would ‘purify the heresy’. A girl raised in a cult perhaps? One that believed in a singular, great, god?

Errant on the other hand was far more subtle, yet the sings remained. He would mutter to an ‘Omnissiah’ on occasion and treated machines with a religious reverence. Another cult child? This one a little more…out there?

Kaphail though…There was no doubt about who he was. He was a war veteran, one who, after the war ended, kept traveling and fighting, as there was nothing else. Maybe he picked up a kid or two while galivanting around.

Likely stories, but not concrete.

Now, it was time to set up tomorrow’s initiation.

What a joy that would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Camo Murf: Blanks are…weird. From what I have read they function as, like you wrote, a suppression field for souls. The thing about this is that they _effectively_ cancel out their own soul.**

**So, for everything that matters, blanks do not function with souls.**


	6. Ironwood

Sorcerer Meto

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The power he bore upon this world was…

_Unimaginable._

Such a density of souls.

In the ground.

In the air.

In the very being of all.

Such rich souls… such foolish mortals.

Almost comical, it was, how little these poor, poor humans didn’t realize the power they held.

The universe was their to conquer!

Or rather…

It would be, were it not for the dark plague that beset them, constricting their souls.

Many would accuse the grimm of such an idea, but they were a mere side effect of the true darkness upon them.

No, there was something else.

Something greater.

Something _darker._

The grimm, at their most basic, were a tool.

And behind every tool, there was a hand.

The question, was whose?

His search for an answer is what brought him here, to the grand office of one General Ironwood. The man in question, sitting behind his desk, typing away at some project or another.

Oh how he wished to greet the man, the only one upon New Prospero that truly _imbodied_ the imperial ideology.

To embrace him in brotherhood.

To speak as friends.

To work as equals.

He was the perfect beacon;

Of will.

Of power.

Of Strength.

He recognized the strategies, the ideas, the plans. They had been seen a thousand times before, indicated by his fathers greatest creation.

Victory at any cost.

An un-breakable iron fist.

Overwhelming force.

He was _perfect._

And oh how he _wished_ he could reveal himself, but no, that would not work.

Ironwood was many things, but blind was not one of them.

He would see Meto as an unknow, an adversary, a threat.

So for now…

He would have to be a pawn.

Meto needed the others _here_. Not in some peace loving city, so obsessed with being moral, that they ignore the threat sitting under their nose.

They were _wasted_ there. But how to bring them closer.

_The schola._

They had been brought into beacon, the primary academy of Vale…but what if they transferred?

A culture exchange? No, his targets were too distanced.

An investigation? No, they would become worried about possible imprisonment.

A student exchange? Yes. that could work.

The technology that the TechPriest held was advanced, much more than that of Atlas. With this in mind, having him, and by extension the marine and sister, transfer to Atlas could be called a chance to learn of a new form of technology.

Yes…

Yes!

A plan.

A course.

A move.

Now…to organize this _transfer._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

General ironwood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The armada would soon be ready, he just needed more _time._

Of course, it wasn’t like his so-called _allies_ were helping. All they cared about was sitting in dark rooms scheming.

They had deluded themselves into believing that the _children_ they trained could be better used than, say, a **military!**

That these hormonal teens were more efficient, more secretive, more…Effective! It was absurd!

How many innocent children would be sent to die before they realized this?!

They needed an army.

The threat they faced could not be fought behind the closed doors of an academy, they had to be faced in the open! They had to be…

**_Purged._ **

Yes…purged…what a fine word.

Not beaten.

Not evaded.

Not stopped.

**_Purged._ **

Destroyed.

Dominated.

Annihilated.

But how to… ** _cleanse_** the world of grimm?

Of **Salem?**

He needed more armies.

He needed more power.

He needed more technology…

**_Beacon._ **

Beacon? But why did he…wait.

He dug out a file Ozpin had sent him, something about a tech cultist?

Yes, here.

One Errant Castor?

Massive mechanical augments.

Extra arms.

Inverted legs.

High grade energy weapons.

He sat back in his chair: This could be what he had been searching for. If he could get the kid to Atlas, they could get the edge they needed!

But how…

**_An exchange._ **

Yes…Yes!

It was sad to give up one of his own teams, but it was worth it. Now, what else did he-

**_The teacher, the companion._ **

Yes…that would be a problem.

The file stated their new teacher, Professor Archenzo was the kids adoptive father.

Hmm…

Well, a teacher exchange would work. Another loss, but he needed the kid. The girl could be considered part of the exchange.

Ozpin seemed proud of his acquisition; too bad he wouldn’t have them for long.

Atlas mattered more than that fool’s ego.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorcerer Meto

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guilt.

For the first time in millennia, he felt guilt.

He knew the mental invasion was necessary, but still, the man deserved better for his loyalty to humanity.

But this guilt shall be forever his own. If others were to learn of this action…

_Really? **This** is what he was guilty over, not the thousands of innocent humans he had sacrificed?_

…

Was this his conscience?

Was this his punishment?

Was this his _fault?_

Those thoughts, those doubts, had plagued his mind ever since he had appeared upon New Prospero.

Was he savable?

Was he deserving?

Was he worthy?

…

YES!

DAMN THEM ALL! THE **EMPEROR** HAD CHOSEN HIM FOR THIS TASK, NONE OTHER!

 **HE** WAS THE EMPERORS CHOSEN!

 **HE** WAS THE EMPERORS HAND!

 **HE** WAS THE EMPERORS WORD!

Only the **Emperor** decided his worth!

NONE

OTHER

None heard as he stormed from Ironwoods office, zealous fury burning in his heart.

By the **Emperor** , he needed to purge something.

Even a ten-thousand-year-old sorcerer needed stress relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whitely Schnee

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His arms hurt like hell, the flesh feeling as though it might simply fall off the bone. All that seemed to hold it in place was the death grip he had on his dagger.

Bright dots swam across his vision while his legs wavered and shuddered under his weight. His breathing came out in quick gasps as he stood at attention, waiting for the next attack.

As the rifle butt came down, he couldn’t bring forth the energy to block, being slammed into the stone floor.

Why was there stone on what was supposed to be a ship? He hadn’t a clue, only that Meto had said so.

A boot came down on his head.

Hard.

For the umpteenth time that day, he felt what he could only assume was death.

A brief second of pain.

A wave of warmth.

A shuddering cold.

A bottomless void.

For the umpteenth time that day, he opened his eyes to see his opponent.

The man wore an odd set of bulky green armor, dotted with two headed birds, a tan set of fatigues under it all. In his hands was some for of rifle, though he didn’t know if it actually worked given that the soldier had only ever chosen to beat him over the head with it.

Despite the damage to his body being removed, his energy reserves remained empty, causing him to simply collapse onto the floor.

“Hmm, perhaps that is enough for today.” Came the calm drawl of the sorcerer.

Dragging his head up, he saw the giant that was his teacher standing above him, helmet staring down.

The world around him faded into a grey, before reforming into his room. His damaged clothing was gone, as was the dagger.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stand. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep, and forget about the pain his body was in.

“Enough, must I remind you that it was **you** who requested training? Get up.”

His body was lifted back onto its feet by an invisible force, a small burst of energy surging through him along side it.

“Well, I was expecting something more…standard? You showing me how to use a blade, or maybe getting an _actual trainer_ , and not some screaming lunatic who uses his rifle as a club!” It had been hours since he had a break, constantly being beaten and killed by the _thing._

“What else were you expecting, apprentice? You are 15 and sorely un-trained. No blade work, no gun play, no tactics. You must be taught from the beginning if you **ever** even **think** of earning your place in this worlds combat schools. I do not doubt even a mere **_child_** could defeat you in combat.”

The words were scathing, but he knew them to be true. Most huntsmen began training at ten, constantly working their bodies and minds, not to mention being placed into the smaller prep schools.

“I know that but…did it really have to hurt that bad!? I-I-I mean, shouldn’t I learn theory first before I’m forced to fight someone?”

Meto considered his words for the briefest of seconds before responding, “Theory will only take you so far. You must gain muscle memory, and more importantly, muscles.” His hand fell upon Whitely back, “You needn’t worry, child. I went through a similar process in my own youth.”

The sorcerer looked up in reminiscence, playing over his time in training, “Ah it was like yesterday…we were awoken before the sun had risen, beaten toa pulp, and then forced to train our minds, all before we had even broken our fast.”

That sounded horrible…

“Hmm, of course, my fellows did occasionally burst into giant mounds of screaming flesh…”

**WORSE**

“…but...that was situational.” A pat the force of a car slammed into his back, “So you don’t need to worry about that happening.”

Rising from his kneeling position, Meto turned to exit the room, “Now that I have rejuvenated you, I believe its about time you got back to training…”

“Wait, NO-“

He didn’t get to finish the sentence before his mind was sent back to the ship for his next hour of beatings.


	7. Initiation

**Hey yall. Sorry about this chapter commin in 3 days late. Ive had a bunch of stuff slowin me down, on top of havin some general writtin problems.**

**Hope yall enjoy regardless!**

**Also, managed to mess up Gariahs name throughout the whole thing…FUN**

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruby Rose

~~~~~~~~~~~

A red blur shot through the trees, a trail of rose petals trailing behind.

_‘Is this really how new students are supposed to get to Beacon?!’_

It wasn’t the first time she had wondered that. This didn’t really… _feel_ like how she was supposed to get there. Was it hazing? Was this a test of their speed and agility? _She could’ve sworn they were supposed to take bullheads…_

Well…Yang told her that THEY were supposed to get there through the emerald forest, soooo…

Ya, she was definitely going the right way! No other possibilities. None at all.

Even the letter in her pocket said so! Pulling it out, she skimmed through all the boring stuff about ‘Legal fees’ and ‘property damage’, until…

AHA! ‘Report to the bullhead docks within Vale at 8:30Am to be faired to the Beacon campus…’

…

Yang tricked her, didn’t she?

Ruby slowed to a stop, sitting down on a collapsed stone pillar…why there were ruins in the middle of the forest, she had no idea.

“Why am I so stupid!?” She yelled to anyone that would listen…wait, the forest was infested with grimm.

And if the growling from behind her meant anything…

“Uh Oh.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tech Priest Errant

~~~~~~~~~~~

**[Cog-Mind system rebooting, please stand by…]**

It is often assumed that Tech priests do not feel pain.

Whether through augmentations, or merely the fact they were made of metal, Tech priests give off an air of ascension, and with it, the belief that they are above such petty things.

This, of course, is a serious miscalculation.

Oh **_boy_ , **could he fell pain.

Galvanic rifles are well known for their _powerful_ recoil and the sheer amount of energy they produce, more than enough to blast through armored vehicles.

Then, you modify its power cell with a fire Dust based propulsion system.

As it would turns out, fire dust is far more volatile than the standard propulsion powders the Adeptus Mechanicus Skittari Rangers makes use of.

Flesh is weak, Metal is strong, but even the great strength of steel has its limits.

His right arm had been torn off.

The right side of his chest plate had been warped and shredded.

His heads-up display became an incoherent mess.

Temporary and easily fixed problems, sure, but no less painful.

At the very least, he could confirm the target dummy, and the wall behind it, had been successfully annihilated.

Perhaps, next time he would add slightly less fire Dust.

Yes, that was a good plan.

Sister Gariah reached into the pile of parts and spare weapons he had been assimilated into and pulled him out, countless scraps of metal and broken guns falling away.

“You, uh, doing alright there kitty?”

He slowly turned his head towards her, the blue light of his visor flickering, “I’m doing _fine_ , just _peachy_ in fact _._ I just need to reattach my arm and ill be all _hunky-dory!”_ His voice coming out as a mechanized drawl.

“Pfft, alright, lets get you patched up before you start hissing at me.” She set him down on one of the few still intact tables and set about collecting his lost limb.

The metal would be easy to fix, the red cloth of his robes on the other hand…well, the Headmaster **did** say he would be receiving extras so…

Luckily the torn off arm had been somewhat clean, not much other than the connection socket having been damaged, and the internals needing a basic repair, nothing too hard.

The chest plate was annoying, but he had seen fit to procuring extras, just in case.

Other damages were minor, if inconvenient, and would patch up fine.

And his legs…

By the Omnissiah, he **hated** having normal human like legs.

No class.

No style.

No…Uh…he was certain there was some form of mechanical superiority, he just hadn’t found it yet.

“You okay? Looks like your spaced out pretty bad.” Gariah said, trying to shove his arm back into the connection port.

“I am fine. I simply have set my cog-brain into function due to the sheer pain I am feeling. If my flesh was in control, I would only vocalize an incoherent bout of screaming.” Of course, he was screaming. Just, internally.

“Alright? Just…tell me when Errant is back in, talking to you like this is weird.”

“Agreed, sister.”

The arm clicked into place, while his aura oddly enough began to repair the damage.

Ah, yes. Aura.

The ‘soul made manifest’ the people called it.

In order to truly assimilate to the school, he and Gariah had theirs unlocked, the feeling of which…

**…**

**[Error in loading memory]**

**…**

**[Memory cannot be loaded without emotional systems. must be active for memory load]**

**…**

**[Flesh-Mind restarting, please stand by]**

**…**

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH” pain-pain-pain-pain

“Oh, is Errant back?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH” pain-pan-pia-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-

“I, uh…take that as a yes?”

**…**

**[Cog-Mind reinstated momentarily]**

**…**

**[Applying pain dampeners]**

**…**

**[Flesh-Mind restarting, please stand by]**

**…**

Pain…was never a fun experience, made non the better by his faulty cog-mind.

The priesthood that served the Lamenters was never kind to him. He received spare parts, broken machines, and salvaged pieces. His cog-mind had been no different. Despite the machine spirits fortitude to last as it had, age had truly taken its toll.

Whether it was failing to activate the correct systems, or simply failing to function, his mental enhancements were broken to the core. One day, they would get him killed. It wouldn’t regulate air, or target an enemy, or pump his blood. This was a simple fact.

He was **lucky** all it had done was fail to activate pain dampeners. Heh, ironic.

A black gauntlet waved in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Command to Err’, do you read me?”

Gariahs helmet was held to her side exposing her dark skin. Scars covered her face, with her left eye having been replaced with a cybernetic.

“I’m awake, and…in control.” By ‘in control’ he meant conscious, he still wasn’t sure if he could move.

The remains of the galvanic rifle were still smoking, half imbedded into the wall. The entire barrel had been obliterated, leaving little more than a shattered stock.

Welp.

Good thing he made extras!

“Sister, the next rifle, if you would please.”

He could feel the weapons spirit shudder. “You needn’t worry little one,” He cooed, “Your possible sacrifice will not be in vain.” It didn’t stop shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~

His fellow students would soon arrive, and with them, initiation.

Beacon initiation: A useless ‘test’ that was almost entirely for the sake of theatrics and not, you know, actually seeing if someone belonged here. In reality, everyone arriving today had already been accepted thanks to combat exams they had already taken.

**…**

**[Beginning preliminary scan...]**

**…**

**[3 Transport Aircraft detected]**

**[48 humanoid life forms detected]**

**…**

“Hmmm. How odd that the kingdom-but-not’s only defensive force takes on so _few_ recruits.”

**[Beginning primary scan…]**

**…**

**[No weapons detected]**

**[No explosives detected]**

**[No Armor detected]**

**…**

Errants head tilted slightly, “That cant be right…if the information I have collected is true, then these ‘huntsmen’ would go nowhere without their equipment.” He slung the now correctly calibrated galvanic rifle from his shoulders.

A voice came from behind him, “Mr. Castor, may I know exactly why you have drawn your weapon?”

Professor goodwitch stood a little ways behind him, eyeing him, whip in hand. _‘How did she sneak up on me?’_

“Merely a precaution professor. The reading material I have found on hunters and their practices have stated that they never go without their weapons, thus, I find it odd the ‘students’ have arrived unarmed and unarmored.”

She paused at that, a wave of confusion covering her face. “How do you know they aren’t armed, and at that, where did you hear that they wouldn’t give up their weapons?”

“Ms. Goodwitch, while I may specialize in cybernetics, I am not blind to the other mechanical sciences. I have multiple Auspex scanning devices within my armor, a brief scan of the incoming ships was all I needed.” To think, these poor, poor, people had to live without such things, truly pitiable. “And as to how I came across such information, I located a book about the topic called ‘A huntsman’s greatest weapons’. Admittedly it was a bit odd, written from the first person and strangely obsessed with human reproduction, but I’ve read through many files of the like written by a scribe within our order.” He grunted, free hand coming up to hold the chin of his helmet, “Though, for some reason Gariah always laughed at me when I brought them up.”

Goodwitch’s face had turned a deep crimson color, her entire body going ridged. “Errant…I will have the correct information delivered to your dorm later.” She brought a hand up to cover her face, “And no, huntsmen are not so obsessed that they need to keep their ‘weapons’ with them at all times. The students coming in have likely put theirs with their luggage.”

“In that case, perhaps I shouldn’t shoot out its engines…though, it could still-!”

“I am not letting you field test your gun on my students, I believe the firing range has already seen enough.”

He flinched at that. The firing range had been an…accident. How was he supposed to know the walls were so weak?! It wasn’t his fault the building collapsed after the final test; it was the shoddy craftmanship!

The aircraft at last reached their destination, the doors opening to reveal…

A blond kid running out with bile spewing from his mount…

Fun!

“Is this **_really_** the finest your lot have to offer?”

She refused to honor that question with a response.

The **actual** students began to file out after, wary of the poor fool retching into a can. They wore an odd assortment of brightly colored clothes that were, at best, inefficient, and at worst, down right ridiculous: Short skirts, unbuttoned tops, some of the men weren’t even wearing shirts!

He could hardly imagine the right **_slaughter_** that would have occurred had this been an imperial schola. Commissars firing off bolt shells, Sisters lighting people on fire, preachers declaring sacrilege; he didn’t have high hopes for the student’s survival if that was the case.

Errant bade farewell to Professor Goodwitch as he made his way back towards the schools armory, he and Sister Gariah had hatched a...’plan’.

He had already learned of the initiations plan, having already ‘taken’ full access over the scholas surface level systems, primarily the part about being shot into the air. There was no doubt he would be fine, a mix of augmentations, specialized gear, and his own light weight would make the landing somewhat clean.

Gariah on the other hand...was wearing power armor. **HEAVY** power armor. She would slam into the ground with the force of a small aircraft without its engines. He, of course, had found a solution, and while it was definitely outside his expertise, the jump pack before him would have to suffice.

Dust, as he found out, is for more than just propellant. It can be used to alter substances, can be infused into materials, and, most importantly, fuel machinery, as was the case with his latest work. Dust fuel was...powerful, the amount needed to power the jump pack was miniscule compared to normal jet fuel.

Now, while he wasn’t the best with this form of technology, aeronautics not being his greatest focus in life, he would say he had done a _serviceable_ job; the pack was smaller than normal and unable to fully sustain flight, but would be enough to slow her descent and provide a boost on jumps.

Then, there was his newest test; gravity Dust infusion, which- _‘ah! The next test results are in!”_

**_…_ **

**[Theoretical: Infusing gravity dust into both the main power armor carapace and jump pack would counteract the equipment's natural weight]**

**…**

**[Practical: Gravity differences caused by infusion has led to a decrease in weight by 15%]**

**…**

“So, how does it feel?”

“It feels...” She flexed her arms, watching the motion from behind her red visor, “Fluid. The lower weight is _really_ nice.

“Good, now if I'm not mistaken, Ozpin should be finishing his stupid speech now. Let's get moving towards the cliff.”

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from walking back through the armory, “What do you mean ‘should be done’? Did we miss the goddamn initiation!”

“We didn’t miss the damned initiation, or, at least the part that matters. We just skipped a meaningless speech the old fool gave before sending our fellows to the jump pads. Now, let's stop this meaningless drivel and get jumping!”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sister Gariah

~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite its heretical infestation, the emerald forest was beautiful, an enticing veneerer hiding the daemonic plague within.

‘ _a plague that shall soon be thinned by blade and flame’_

Her finger toyed with the ignition trigger of her chain sword, watching as the teeth were flooded with fire. While her kitty had been the one to craft it, it was her idea to implement her flamer into her chain sword. The fire infusion he had applied granted it an immunity to the cleansing heat, allowing her blade to purify all it cleaved.

The loud clang of her ceramite boots signaled that she was on the jump pad, her packs thrusters warming up.

The _children_ around her stepped back, their bare body's clashing against her black armor. She was no Iron hand, but she was forced to agree with their war cry. These fools exposed their flesh to the enemy, _asking_ to be torn asunder, their flesh devoured by the decrepit beasts they hunted.

She ignored the headmaster as he spoke, his words meaning nothing before her blood lust. Oh, so _very_ soon, she would bath in the onyx blood of daemons. Their screams would echo in a cacophony of death, wailing to the dark gods who birthed them.

She heard the first spring board go off, launching one of the students forward; some blonde boy in a shameful mockery of plate armor. His scream of terror revealing his weakness. _‘But another child come to die in the grinder, may my prayer bring him purity in death’_

The spring board thrust her onward into the sky. Gunning her jump pack, she shot over the decrepit forest. Her target was known; a ruin within the forest which held some form of relic, why the fools would risk the loss of such a treasure was beyond her.

A roar came from far ahead of her, the source if which being a large bear like daemon, an ursa, her hud informed her.

“Ursa? I believe that is pronounced 'landing zone’.”

And land she did, her boot caving in the creature's skull, black immaterial blood covering her armor as she thundered onto the ground.

She stood from her kneeling position finding herself surrounded by daemonic scum.

 _‘perfect’_ she smiled, before igniting her blade.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruby Rose

~~~~~~~~~~~

One second she had been facing down an ursa, the next...

The world was on fire.

The black armored woman swung her screaming blade into the last of the Grimm, the Beowulf being torn to shreds with a scream of pain. For the first time in her life, she felt _bad_ for them.

Smoke stung her eyes as she walked up to the strangers back, raising her hand and voice, “H-hey, are you from bea-”

She was cut off by the sword swinging around with unbelievable speed, stopping just short from her neck. Despite its fire having gone out, she could still feel the blades heat.

The two stood in silence for what felt like centurys, before the woman lowered her blade.

“You would do well not to sneak up on a warrior on the field, lest you find them less forgiving than **I** ” She said, her voice modified by a mechanical speaker within her white-faced helmet.

Black armor...

Flaming sword...

**Chain saw...**

“Uh, kid, you alright?” Her words reminded Ruby that she was, in fact, standing in front of another human, and not an armor stand at the weapons shop.

“O-oh ya, my names Ruby! I'm on my way to Beacon for initiation, do you know what direction it is? I'm a little... _lost.”_

 _“_ Oh, well...” the woman began to scratch the back of her head, “If you’re here for initiation I'm afraid you a bit late, as its already started.”

She hadn't made it.

She had the best chance of her life to get into beacon.

And she messed it up...

It wasn’t long before the flood gates opened.

“Wait, oh, shit, uh...Don't worry kid” The woman heavily dropped her hand on Rubys head, accidently shoving her into the ground, “I'm certain that you can still pass!”

Her sniffles stopped momentarily, “A-are you sure?”

“Uh, ya, without a doubt they’ll let you in with me!”

The effect was immediate; all at once Ruby stopped crying and shot up, a gleaming smile on her face.

“Wait, does that mean ere partners?!” she yelled.

“I guess it does. Names Sister Gariah by the way, good to meet ya kid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tech Priest Errant

~~~~~~~~~~~

**…**

**[Landing sequence complete]**

**…**

A soft landing is what greeted the tech priest to the emerald forest, a better start than what the others were receiving if the pillar of smoke was anything to go by.

**…**

**[Cloaking field starting up, please stand by...]**

**…**

He had already marked the destination, his helmets overlay telling him exactly where to go, the only problem now was getting there with as little trouble as possible. The forest had been left un-culled for weeks to gather as many Grimm as possible, reaching the ruins would be a test of stealth and assassination; Brute force would be ill advise-

…

Gariah had already started setting the forest on fire, hadn't she?

Well, at least she would attract more Grimm away from hi-

He was cut off as something slammed into him from the opposite direction, his assalant latching onto his chest plate.

He braught up his Macro-stubber, ready to shoot them...when he saw no one there

~~~~~~~~~~~

Blake Belladonna

~~~~~~~~~~~

A new start, that’s what this was. A chance to get away from the white fang, a chance to become a force for _good,_ not some Wanna be revolutionary out to kill innocent people.

Not **him...**

She dashed through the forest, rendered invisible by her semblance. Some idiot had started a massive fire on the other side of the forest, calling all of the Grimm straight to them...

Less for her to deal with.

Hopefully she was able to get to the ruins without much trouble, the relic-

Her ears were filled with ringing after she ran head first into what felt like a steel wall, having launched into something at full speed.

As she tumbled to the ground, landing on top of someone, she realized why she hadn't seen them.

There was no one there...

Or rather, there wouldn’t be if it weren't for the fact, she was currently sitting on what appeared to be open air.

“He-...hello?” she asked the open air.

“...We’re both invisible, aren't we?”, came the oddly mechanical sounding response.

“I think so?” This whole situation was giving her a headache. Could this get any more awkward?

“Should we...?”

“Drop cloaks in 3?” He said, her nodding in affirmation.

“...I'm going to assume your silence is a yes, I still can't see you.”

“Oh, uh, yes.”

“1...2...3!”

They both came back into visibility at the same time,

_‘Ah, our situation **could** be more awkward’_

As it turns out, she had been straddling the other person, her hands clinging onto the odd skull symbol on his chest plate, her face turning a bright red.

Speaking of the chest plate, the stranger was dressed in a... weird, set of armor. The helmet looked almost like a bell, with a half cog poking out of the top as a plume, and while he appeared to be heavily armored, all except the chest plate was covered by a set of crimson robes. An odd-looking skull-symbol, with a half cog above it, and a chain below.

“Are you...going to move?”

His words shocked her out of her thoughts, reminding her of exactly where she was.

She quickly jumped off of him, holding out a hand to help him up.

That was her first mistake.

As it turns out, despite appearing to be only five feet tall, he was **heavy**. She was pulled back down on top of him, banging her head into his chest once more.

“Alright, this bit is getting stale, I swear I’ve seen something like this from those odd holo-shows the T’au keep throwing at us…

“Who are the T’au?”

“A decadent group of idiots who are obsessed with ‘greater goods’, or so I have been told.”

This was making less and less sense the longer it went on.

“Do you want to just forget this whole situation happened and start over?” she asked, rubbing her temple to ease the building migraine.

“I would love to, the second you get off of me…again.”

Oh.

Her normal grace having departed her, the two clambered up to their feet, wary to not fall over for a third time. her normal grace having departed her

Two assassins falling on top of each other in the middle of a Grimm infested forest while fighting for their lives. If this had been one of her books it would have been romantic, in reality, it just felt awkward. _‘Wait, is T’au slang for smut readers?’_

“Ah, yes,” he held his hand up to her, “Data smith Errant Castor at your service, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Blake Belladonna, the same.” She said, taking the hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Professor Archenzo

~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the Headmasters absence, the initiation trials had gone well. There had yet to be any fatalities, or injury’s requiring recovery, a far cry from his own so long ago.

 **His** initiation had been cut short by a traitor Legion assault, leaving ninety-three of the one-hundred recruits dead. Even now he mourned the deaths of his brothers to be, those who had laid down their lives despite their age. Looking over the children here…

He could not see them doing the same.

It was not cowardice that hindered them, it was fear. Fear of pain, fear of failure, fear of **death**. 

These were **heroes** not soldiers. They stood as shining beacons of might, a proud symbol of protection that the people could rally behind. They would not die on a field of corpses; they would not lay down their lives to hold back a horde. They were the ones who got their ‘happy ending’, where they would return home in glory, and likve out their lives in peace, all the while, the **TRUE** protectors continued their fight.

**The Soldiers.**

**The Guards.**

**The Generals.**

**The Watch captains.**

Those were the warriors who held the line. Those were the men who died in open graves. Those were the men who marched unto death, young, scared, and weak, yet stalwart regardless. 

**They** were the protectors.

 **They** were the defenders.

 **They** were the warriors.

**They…should have been Heroes.**

Yet, there would be no parades, no golden monuments, no happy endings. A forgotten face, a forgotten name, a forgotten grave.

But he would not forget.

Not now.

Not ever.

…

By the Emperor he needed something to do.

He had been standing there watching the children run around and fight daemons. While that may have sounded slightly entertaining, it really wasn’t. Most of the beasts were so utterly pathetic that they could have been felled with a faulty lasgun, no less the ridiculous weapons these initiates were using.

Ah, no matter, these _cowards_ would have quite the surprise later.

“Hmm, ah. Errant and Gariah have found partners.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tech Priest Errant

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait! I’m not as fast as you!”

As it turns out, Blake was fast.

 **REALLY** fast.

While he could sprint a good 30mph, belladonna was easily hitting 40.

_‘Dammed aura! Dammed assassin! Perhaps my next set of legs should priorities speed…’_

“You would be faster if you weren’t wearing all that armor!” She shouted back

_‘Oh, not this shit again’_

“I don’t know about you but having a good bit of steel between me and whatever hell beast I’m fighting is far preferable to **_nothing at all!”_**

They had been arguing like this for the past half hour while they made their way to the ruins, guided by Errant’s map.

“You wouldn’t _need_ steel if you were fast enough to dodge!”

“Dodging is predictable and can be countered, its better to be armored against smart opponents!”

“They’re _Grimm!_ They **aren’t** smart opponents!”

“The common fodder may not be, but the alphas are! The fodder can’t hurt me with my armor, thus, the only enemy I have to worry about are the leaders!”

“Fuck you! the lesser ones **can** hurt you! I’m certain if I got a couple hundred Beowulves you would be little more than swiss cheese!”

“I’m not **_so_** **_slow_** that I can’t avoid things! I’m just not as fast as you, you spastic little shit!”

The last word was punctuated by a round from his Macro-Stubber shredding a Beowulf’s head. Their constant arguing had drawn a horde of Grimm towards them, though this didn’t stop the fight.

“Also, why the hell do you use stealth when your guns are so fucking loud!” She shouted while decapitating a Beowulf of her own.

“I use melee you fucker! What do you think I am, an idiot?!” A boarbatusk was melted by a gamma blast.

“You’re a huntsman in heavy armor, so yes!” a creep found itself without a set of legs.

“You are **_insufferable!”_**

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruby Rose

~~~~~~~~~~~

She had never been a religious girl, but her partner sure was!

Ruby held her ears closed as she and Gariah (Who had insisted she be called ‘sister’) walked towards the ruins. Gariah, as it turns out, had memorized roughly **TEN HOURS** of sermons and scripture! All just for Ruby to listen to while they walked.

She wanted to die!

At first it had been cool! Aesthetic, even! It had been cool running around and ‘purging’ the ‘heretical daemons’, but it **very** quickly got **grating**!

“And it is by the holy jungle saints hand that the gaseous amphibian was cast from the great raven, and delivered unto oblivion-“

Half of them didn’t even make sense!

“A brief nod to the great raven foretold of the saints leave, as he once again flew through the tree- “

“Oh, hey look! The ruins!”, Ruby shouted, bringing a blessed end to Gariahs preaching,

The ruins before them looked strangely familiar…

Oh.

“Ruby, you alright?” Gariah asked her as she fell to the ground.

“Ya…just wishing I was dead.”

“Did your gun break?”

Ruby shot up, tearing Crescent Rose from its holster, “W-w-what!? Is it cracked, dented, dirty!?”

“Uh,” Gariah took a step back, “No... I just assumed it had, cause Err’ does the same thing when his weapons break.”

With a sigh of relief, Ruby re-holstered her scythe, before pausing.

“Who’s ‘Err’?” Ruby asked.

Her partner actively perked up at that question “Oh! You’re going to love him! He’s a massive tech nut, and has the _adorable_ little kitty ears!”

_‘Kitty ears? OH!’_

“He’s a Faunus?” What few religious people she had met had been a bit…racist.

Gariah stopped for a second, sticking her with an odd look, “The hells a Faunus?”

_‘She doesn’t…?’_

“Y-y’know, animal people.” She **had** to know, who didn’t?!

“Animal people…Oh, you mean abhumans? Faunus must be a regional term.”

Ok, ‘abhuman’ didn’t sound very nice, and in what region was ‘Faunus’ **not** used?!

“W-why do you call them that? That sounds really mean!”

“Seriously? I thought it was way better than what my sisters in arms called them, hell, I thought it was the nicest thing **_too_** call them.”

Wait if that was _nice_ then what was…Oh no.

“I’m a bit afraid to ask but…what do your sisters call them?”

Her partner waved her hand flippantly in the air while saying, “Oh you know; Abomination, heretic, sub-human filth, wretch, and a plethora of other stuff. Errant never liked any of it so I just stuck with abhuman for him.”

_‘A-ah, well at least she wasn’t **that** bad…wait, Errant?’_

“Oh, I know Errant! I met him a few nights ago down in Vale!”

Gariah seemed surprised at this, “Really? I hadn’t really expected him to get out and about, what with him tinkering all the time. Admittedly, I shouldn’t be surprised, he **had** to get out at some point, either because he needs more materials or because Lord Archenzo Forced him to.”

“Lord Archenzo? Do you mean the new professor?” The giant yellow guy had scared her when she saw him in the news, despite his cool looking weapons, that scowling mask made him look…mean.

“Ya, he’s Errant’s ‘father’, and is, by technicality, my caretaker. Hes super nice once you get to know him, so don’t worry too much about his class.”

Few, in that case she could have at least **one-**

“Or maybe do; because from what I’ve seen the teachers here are _super_ lax. While he may be nice from my standpoint, hell probably run you guys into the ground, then keep on digging.”

“O-oh…fun.”

Something seemed to grab Gariahs attention in the ruins, “what is going…?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tech priest Errant

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shots had been fired.

It was un-known who fired the first round, but the effect was immediate: all seven of the gathered initiates had begun a prolonged fire fight, each taking an area of the ruins to hold.

On the eastern front was a pair of two, a ginger girl with a grenade launcher, and a weirdly dressed kid in green with smg’s. Both Un-knowns

The western had a blonde boy in armor (the first case of such he had seen) and a girl by the name ‘Pyrrha Nekos’, an elite gladiator, while the boy was un-known.

To the north was some girl from the world’s noble houses, records labeling her ‘Weiss Schnee’, her combat skills were sub-par, but a threat nonetheless.

He and Blake had put aside their differences, and had taken up a southern holding, his guns providing g suppression, while she cleared out anyone that got close.

One may ask: Why are they fighting? The answer?

Only the Omnissiah Knew.

There had been something akin to an argument over the relics, specifically about which one the teams got, and it had all gone down hill from there; one second everyone is standing around calm, the next, a war starts.

A shot from Nikos’s rifle pinged off his armor, the steel absorbing the damage to spare his Aura, as he ducked back behind cover after firing macro rounds at the grenade lobber.

Blake jump behind the pillar he leaned on after forcing the knight looking brother-fucker off their land. A rag was wrapped around her mouth due to his command, as his auspex had detected some form of hazard in the air, what it was; he didn’t know, the results hadn’t been conclusive.

“I know this is probably a bad time, but have you ever thought about getting a full body suit? Doesn’t have to be armor, just something that’s better at blocking contaminants than a rag.” He said, gaining an irritated look from his partner.

“Will you stop about the outfit thing?! We’re in a bit of a situation right now!”

“ _By the motive force-_ I was not referring to the outfit conversation! I am legitimately suggesting you get some form of protection! An air filter, or some sort of mask. I’m sure we could find something that fits your aesthetic- one second.”

He ended his statement by throwing an inferno grenade towards Nikos, forcing her into the open where he began firing both pistols at her. Infuriatingly, she dodged every gamma blast, while the macro slugs refused to stay on target. _‘How odd, does she have telekinesis like Goodwitch?’_

**_…_ **

**_[Contaminant scan complete]_ **

**…**

**[Affected may show signs of increased aggression, while lowering their ability to process reason]**

**…**

Ah, so there **WAS** something in the air, must be why the fight had broken out.

“Watch out! Assault coming from the eastern front!”

The grenadier and her comrade were indeed attack, the grenade launcher having been morphed into a hammer.

The two didn’t get far, as a black form slammed into the girl, launching her back a good thirty-feet. Engines still flaring, the form swung their burning blade at the green boy, who narrowly dodged the strike…directly into the blade of a scythe.

“Ah, Sister Gariah, a timely entrance! Mind helping us silence these insolent fools?”

Swinging her blade towards the west, a crescent flame launching towards the knight, she yelled back, “With pleasure my little kitty cat! Let’s show these traitors the might of our faith!”

Blake turned to him, an odd look on her face, “Kitty-cat?”

“Ugh,” sighing, Errant ducked behind cover once more, “She’s taken to calling me that ever since she saw my ears. There’s nothing mean behind it, its just annoying.”

“That sounds less ‘annoying’ and more racist.” She remarked.

“Meh, its better than the actual, literal, slurs the rest of her sisterhood would have thrown at me.”

“That… doesn’t make it any better.”

 **“Less talking! More killing!”** Gariah shouted, tearing them from their conversation.

The addition of Gariah, and who he now recognized to be Ruby, turned the fight froma stalemate, to a true battle. Fire covered almost every flammable surface, and a few nonflammable ones; while bullets and blades flew through the air with killing intent.

“Errant, Uh- _Ruby! –_ Right, Ruby, get behind cover and provide fire, Gariah, take center and hold them off while I do interference!” Blake commanded, already getting to her job.

Nikos and her knight paired up with hammer and smg, forcing the stalemate once again. Or, at leaste until…

With a heavy thud, a **very** beat Weiss Schnee was lobbed over they cover falling to the floor. She didn’t get a second to react before she had 2 pistols and a sniper rifle pointed at her head.

“I surrender!” She shouted, hands shooting into the air.

“Indeed, what should we do with you I wonder…”

“Exocution! The only fate for those who surrender to our holy might!”, came Gariahs reply from mid.

“P-p-please no! I can pay you to let me go!”

“Hmm, what do you two say?” He asked, looking to Blake and Ruby.

“Uh, uh, we should let her go? I don’t want to hurt anybody…”

“Ive got a better idea” Blake said, “While im no fan of working with a Schnee- _Hey!_ – I think she could be of _use_.”

A look of fear came over Weiss’s face as she looked to the group. “Wha-what do you mean by _‘use’?”_

“Well, you are quite adept with Dust, yes?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good, in that case, I want you putting as much **death** into them as possible, understand?”

“I understand” She said with an audible gulp.

Blake began walking away, before she stopped and turned around one last time, “And should you decide to turn on us… ** _I think Gariah made a great point!”_**

With their new ~~conscript~~ ally, the scales were once more tipped in their favor, the enemy force being pushed back until they had little more than a single fallen pillar to provide cover.

Despite the numbers advantage, the battle would still be one of attrition; Nikos’s skill was great enough that single combat would become too drawn out, while hammer’s grenades stopped a coordinated assault. They needed a way to end this _fast_!

Then he saw it. The Knight, who had shown little in terms of combat skill, was the one issuing orders. _‘A commander, not a fighter, it would seem’_

Signaling Blake to join him, he gave the news. “Mr. Knight needs to go down, hes their commander! Aaaaaaalso, we should probably discuss vox link- Ok bye!” He blurted out as she shot off.

With the target set, it wasn’t long before the fools Aura had been fully depleted by bullet, blast, and macro slugs, the final nail in the coffin being when he tried to melee fight Gariah…He was slammed through their last line of defense within seconds.

**…**

[ **Analysis complete: Semblance Identified]**

**…**

**[Ruby Rose: short distance speed jump]**

**…**

**[Blake Belladonna: Leaves behind a clone, while briefly becoming invisible]**

**…**

Hmph, about time that came in

His greater knowledge of his allies mattered little, as their foe would soon crumble regardless.

Even now, the green one was lagging behind, and would soon be taken by either Blake sword, or a round from Ruby, while hammer was on her knees awaiting the final blow.

But Nikos… she was still fighting. Turns out the ‘elite’ Gladiator was truly such. How to…

Opening his vox link, her gave his plan to Gariah.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pyrrha Nikos

~~~~~~~~~~~

The fight was exhilarating! For the first time in _years_ she was being challenged!

Of course, if it hadn’t been for her lackluster teammate, not that they were bad, or her loss of energy fighting Grimm, it would have been over already, her standing victor.

Their assassin ducked and weaved in front of her, dodging each strike from her spear, and already showed signs of retreat. Perhaps they had simply realized they wouldn’t win against her, or maybe…ooh, she saw her plan, if the presence behind her was anything to go by.

Swing around, she brought her shield up to intercept the strike…and realized her mistake, as the black armored one’s arms wrapped around her.

_‘Ah, she intends to squeeze me! How funny, too bad I’ll have to-‘\_

A look of horror settled over her face when she saw what the cog one held. Throughout the entire fight, a massive weapon was slug on their back pack, unused in favor of the duel pistols, and now, it was aimed right at her back…

While she couldn’t move.

She screamed as a flash of red, and a loud bang, filled her senses, and then sensed no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Glynda Goodwitch

~~~~~~~~~~~

She couldn’t believe what she had just watched. One second everyone was just standing around the ruins picking relics, when the next, all hell broke loose.

“How did this…”

“Ah” Professor Archenzo said behind her, “That would be **my** doing.”

“Wha- **WHAT!?** ”

“Simple, while exploring the ‘huntsmen’ centered markets I discovered a peculiar herb. Supposedly it was meant to cause Grimm infighting, but I saw to…inspire the same within our students.”

He said that so calmly…

“Are you insane,” She shouted, “They could have **died!”**

Shrugging her off, he responded “They would have been _fine_ , I only put enough there to aggravate them, not send them into a blood rage.”

“AN-and what about the death stalker and nevermore! What if they had come across them then!”

“They wouldn’t have.”

“How-.“

“Because they’re **dead**.”

She stood stock still, eyes blinking rapidly, “Wha, what do you mean they’re dead?”

“Simple, their lives have been ended. That little ‘test’ the headmaster had planned was _worthless_. A mere beast has not the ability to _truly_ test these students. They are predictable, simple, with exposed weaknesses.”

He walked up to the cameras, indicating the fight, “Humans are nothing of the such. They are smart, unpredictable, and skilled. Our students gained _infinitely_ more comradery and skill through this, than they would ever have gotten through killing those beasts.”

Archenzo trapped her in place with a gaze from his scowling mask, “While Ozpin may have seen this as a game, it is nothing of the sort. This is where the weak are separated from the strong, where the children become adults, where the **heroes** become **warriors**.”

“Now then,” he said, walking aboard the bullhead, “Shall we go collect our newly minted scouts?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Blake Belladonna

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Perhaps…we should have used less explosives…” Weiss remarked.

She couldn’t help but agree, staring at the smoking remains of what had once been the relics.

“M-maybe it will still count if we bring back the remains?” Ruby said, looking on the verge of tears.

Blake was doubtful of that, looking over to find Gariah sitting on a rock, cradling her stomach from where she took Errants shot. While Pyrrha may have taken the actual power from the blast, there was still a good deal of kinetic energy packed in.

Speaking of Pyrrha…She and her team had been laid out to recover after their defeat.

“Hey guys, what I miss-!”

The poor girl didn’t get to finish the sentence before Blake turned and pulled the trigger on reflex…as did everyone else, it seems, given the number of projectiles that slammed into the blonde girl who had arrived.

“Wait, YANG!” Ruby shouted, running to the now thoroughly unconscious girl.

“Do you…know her?” She asked.

“Y-yes, she’s my sister.”

…Adopted, then. There was no way the short black-haired girl with silver eyes was the blood relation of the tall, blonde, one in front of them.

An engine could be heard behind them, as well as loud clapping.

Turning, she saw what had caused the noise. Stepping out of the bullhead was a giant armored in gold, a massive sword and shield at his size. Upon the top of his scowling helmet sat a crown of leaves, and upon his chest was a bleeding-heart sporting wings.

“well done, the lot of you.’ He said, stepping down from the aircraft, Professor Goodwitch standing behind him with an odd look on her face, “Hmm, sadly you targets of interest, the relics, were destroyed, by your own hand even. Despite this, I believe the teams are set. Now then, It would be **_very_** kind of you to assist your…comrades, in boarding the bullhead, we have a ceremony to reach.”

She had read about the new teacher previously, but this was a far cry from how he had been presented. A loving, caring old man is what they had shown her, one who had fought against all manner of evil.

But this…this felt… _cruel._ Had he planned for them to fight?!

She felt a metal hand fall on her shoulder, Errant having walked alongside her, “I suggest you grab one and get moving, you don’t want to get on Lord Kaphails bad side when he goes full soldier.”

What?!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Headmaster Ozpin

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Congratulations to team B.O.W.A.R, or team Boar, with Blake Belladonna as leader.” There was a loud bout of applause at that, a recording of the fight having spread.

“And to team January, lead by Jaune Arc.”

Kaphails little _stunt_ had pissed him off, but he understood the action. Kaphail **WAS** a veteran, and a Sargent at that, it only made since he would take a… violent approach.

A warning would still have been appreciated.

He did his best to hide his disheveled appearance, having had little sleep the night before. Awakening the kids auras had raised…questions.

Notably, ‘did faith have power?’

No matter, he needed to sleep damnit! Not spend all night researching religion! Well, he would admit it was better than fairy tales…

He watched as the final team walked off the stage, hoping that they wouldn’t take the loss too hard.

The trio of strangers had been nothing but trouble since they had arrived: Murdering white fang militants, showing up out of nowhere, and now starting a fight between his students.

Not to mention James was acting…weird.

Constantly requesting that the three are transferred to Atlas, **not** for detainment, but for schooling…

He had been alive for thousands of years, and yet, this had to be one of the strangest things to ever happen to him… perhaps.

Perhaps he should take James up on that offer, maybe then the whispers he had been hearing would stop…


	8. Faunus and Napalm

**Yikes, sorry for this taking 3 weeks, needed to take a break to avoid burnout.**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Blake Belladonna**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

“Why can’t anything go well today. _”_ Ruby moaned.

As it turns out, the Headmaster had been rather…short sighted, when they made the two teams of five.

Beacon, for the entire duration of its existence, had functioned off the idea of four-man teams, each team made of two pairs, each pair made to be an inseparable bond. The school reflected this in every aspect; four beds, two mirrors, four desks, to every room.

So, when the set of ten had arrived, they found the schools housing…lacking.

They had each been quickly shuffled into a set of storage attics, each one only accessible via a trap door. The beds were dusty, the chairs splintered, the lights out. By the time the moon had risen, the massive tidal wave of boxes had only barely been carried away, leaving thew students with a dirty, old, poorly air-conditioned room.

On the plus side, the attic room was nearly quadruple the size of the ones below, leaving the five of them with a massive amount of space to move about. _Doesn’t help that the ceiling slants so low_.

She heard a bang from behind here and turned around to see the _Schnees_ luggage covering the floor.

…

“I don’t think this number of explosives is legally allowed here.” Errant said, leaning over the fallen suitcases.

All but one of the ten cases Weiss had brought were filled to the brim with Dust. Fire, Ice, lightning, gravity, it was all there, kept secure in canisters of all shapes and sizes.

“W-w-well what was I supposed to do!” She blustered, “I’m a Dust mage, I need more than they allow!”

_That won’t hold up in court- oh what am I saying, it’s a Schnee, she’ll just buy off the judge._

“Don’t worry I’m not judging. Hell, I smuggled in napalm, so I’m in no position to do so.” That revelation brought the room to complete silence, all eyes staring at the red robed priest.

Blake had learned _very_ quickly, that Errant had a way of just, _shutting up_ a room.

“Err’!” Gariah shouted, dropping what looked like a box of scrap metal. “What did I say about using napalm!”

“Ugh, you said ‘napalm an inefficient and expensive waste of resources that can be better spent on promethium’, _despite the fact napalm sounds cooler-_.”

“Nuh uh! No napalm! Go put it back where you found it!”

“But-but, do you know how bad the resell rate is in the black market! This stuff costs a fortune, and there are almost no buyers outside the ones who sold it to me!”

“Well, it serves you right for wasting time on it.”

She would be dead before the year ended, wouldn’t she? Either from her own hand, or a particularly large amount of friendly ‘fire’.

Weiss looked like she was on the border of an aneurism, while Ruby…didn’t seem to understand what was going on. _Just how young is that girl?_

“You’re a criminal!? How could you even think of attending this school while _breaking the law_!” the _hypocrite_ shouted.

“Why wouldn’t I? We both break the law, just in different ways Ms.Schnee; I use my skills to sneak around police, while you use your money to pay off the guards.”

“You dare accuse me of-!”

“Weiss, I saw you slip them the money.” Her face grew even more pale than normal, a glare baring the same lethality as a blade pointed directly at the boy,

“…You will tell no one of this, or else I will ensure your life is destroyed, hear me?” She all but whispered to him.

“Of course, I wouldn’t tell a fly. Though…the same should be said to _you_. Can’t have the staff after me for what is most likely some form of war crime.”

The two shook hands, agreeing to keep their ‘legal’ transgressions between them.

Blake would have been more worried over the two, had Gariah not taken the time to reappear, a massive metal case slung over her armored shoulder. The case slammed into the ground, lid opening on impact to reveal…

Several mounted machine guns and a multitude of explosives.

“Umm, Gariah, what do you need all of that for.” She asked, already dreading the answer.

“Self-defense.” Gariah began mounting the guns at the windows, the ammo feeds revealing they were being chambered in the same rounds as Ruby’s AMR. _Recoil would be insane._

“Self-defense?”

“Yes.” She responded curtly.

“…Why would you need these for self-defense, who is going to attack you at Beacon?!”

“Oh y’know,” she said almost lazily, “Heretics, daemons, mutants, the whole lot the instructors may throw at us.” Oh, so it was paranoia-

…wait.

“M-mutants?”

“Well, yes.” Gariah crossed her arms in front of her, having deployed the final emplacement, “Mutants, the disgusting, inhuman, abominations that plague humanity. Their _revolting_ forms stand as an affront to all of creation, their deformed body’s telling all of their people’s _sickness_.”

Blakes eyes widened in shock at the girl’s words. _This cant be happening…_

“As the scripture states, ‘Mutation is but the physical manifestation of heresy.’”

This…this was not good. Not only was her teammate a human supremacist, she was genocidal! With Schnee, not to mention Errant who was Gariahs brother…

She was surrounded.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Four students sat before her around an oval table.

Schnee was desperately trying to smudge the dust stains her dress had accumulated from their room, having spent almost the entire night trying to clean the place. She hadn’t succeeded in her quest, but progress was progress.

 ** _She_** was Still fully decked out in her armor, except for the helmet, replacing the teeth of her sword. Her head was fully shaved, showing off her dark skin and numerous scars, the first sign any of them had seen of the human underneath the dark plating.

Errant too showed barely anything of himself, the only flesh seen from beneath his red robes was his lower jaw. The skin was tanned, though usually covered by an odd metal ring around his neck.

Ruby…was trying to balance a milk carton on her nose. And failing. Bad.

Standing at the end of the table, was Blake Belladonna, leader of team BOWAR, or as Errant often called her, ‘Alpha Belladonna’. _Heh, like the sound of that._

“Alright!” She shouted, earning a glare from Weiss and a yell from Ruby as she fell from her seat, “We aren’t going to just sit around and coast our way through our time a Beacon.”

She had prepared for this. Though she hated the fact, as the team’s leader she had to take charge if they were going to make any progress, and while she didn’t have much knowledge of the job other than watching **_him_** , Gariah had been kind enough to write a speech for her, well, before Blake had learned of her **beliefs**. _Still, better than nothing._

“We aren’t?” Ruby asked, cleaning the pink tinged milk off her face with a rag she grabbed from Errant, a fresh coat of oil replacing the milk.

“No, we need to plan out this campaign! Errant, the projector.”

“As are your orders.” He said, standing from his seat, the projector jumping off the table and walking after him…she wasn’t going to ask.

“First slide please.” The wall lit up; a circle made of their personal symbols sitting upon it.

“While the team building process was random, I would say we got quite lucky in our pool. We have range, explosives, stealth, armor, everything we need to become one of the best teams at this school.”

A second slide clicked on screen, showing a crudely drawn pig sitting atop a pile of seemingly dead stick figures.

Blake looked down to the script given to her, Gariahs impeccable writing looking almost out of some ancient tome.

It was supposed a simple thing, only a few sentences long, simply to get the team ready for _purging all heretics, xenos, and mutants!_

…

Oh, that’s right. Gariah was a racist. Of course that shit would get into the speech. _Less subtle than Cardin for Oums sake._

Looking back over the paper, she realized her mistake in taking the sisters help. What sat before her was a full two pages of _purge, maim, kill, destroy._ The sheer amount of racism on display…

She couldn’t say any of this! The team (Minus a certain _someone_ ) would think she was insane!

Alright, backup plan; Ninjas of love book five chapter six, where Iroh gives a massive speech to inspire the ninja clan to action, now where was it…

“Blake…why are you reading smut in the middle of a meeting?”  
…

 _No_.

Her head slowly turned to the cultist, eyes wide in absolute horror… _She knows…Oh god she knows…_

“What is smut?” _Ruby, no!_

“Por-”

“Enough!” Weiss shouted, cutting Gariah off, “We do **not** have time to discuss…such things!”

“Thank you, Weiss.” Perhaps she wasn’t as bad as she-

“Nor do we have time to make childish speeches and plans!”, she declared, looking Blake in the eyes, “Do you even _slightly_ understand what will happen if people learn the _Heiress of the SDC_ was galivanting around acting like a _child_ while her leader reads _smut_!?”

 _Ok, **fuck** her, “_I’m so _sorry_ that the next in line to the world’s most _corrupt_ , bordering on _slavery fueled_ , corporation might act even slightly social with her peers!”

“How _dare_ you!” Weiss shouted with a shocked gasp, hand over her chest.

“Oh crap, here we go _again_.”

“Shut up Ruby! I need to show this cur _exactly_ who she is speaking to! I require the _respect_ I deserve!”

Weiss drew her rapier as Blake drew Gambol shroud, the bloodlust between the two growing to un-knowable proportions…but being utterly drowned out by the well of rage and screaming blades that stood next to them.

Lords will, the massive burning chainsword, sat imbedded in the metal floor between them, the none-too-pleased Sister towering over both of them. She could practically _feel_ the deep scowl behind the red eyed helmet that once more sat upon her head.

 **“Listen here _children_.” **Her voice was…unnatural. Each syllable etched its way into her very soul, locking her muscles in place, her eyelids could not close, and neither pair of ears could hear anything but her words.

**“I will not have your petty squabble destabilize _my_ forces, you are warriors, not infantile newborns. Errant, if you would kindly…”**

She watched as he reached into his bag, producing…a notched whip.

 **“You see, the members of my order have a very _specific_ punishment for this kind of act, the act of disrupting a squad.” **The whips thorns scraped the ground as Gariah tested its weight. **“Can you guess what it was? Among the orders, division among sisters was seen as a _dreadful_ crime. To waste what our lord has given us on petty grievances is heresy.”**

“Kinky.”

Silence reigned over the room at the interjection.

The sound of grating stone rang out as Gariah _slowly_ turned her head towards Yang, who had foolishly made to enter.

“Ha…ha…ha…So, uh, what are you-“

**_“_ ** **Oh look, something to relieve my stress upon.”**

“Uh”

**_“Run.”_ **

“Eeep-!”, Yang gave a startled yelp as she dashed from the room, the armored giant chasing after, sword spitting flames onto every conceivable surface. They could here the loud crash of every titanic step she made chasing down the blonde with burning fury.

“Welp, crisis averted, can I get through the rest of these slides now, I have _plans_ for this projector. Oh, and Ruby, tell your sister thank you for being the sacrificial lamb.” Errant said, petting the machine as if it were some sort of dog. _Ew, dogs._

“You may do as you wish, but I refuse to be a part of these childish games!” Weiss shouted before storming out of the room, Ruby chasing after her to calm her down.

This had been an utter disaster. _Of your making._

She fell back into her chair, her body deflating and head falling into her hands. This was supposed to be a chance for the team to become closer, to build relationships, but now all it had done was piss people off, _not that you wanted to be friends with them, right?_. How was she supposed to fix this? _Do you really want to?_

She shouldn’t have been made the leader. Yes, she could spit commands in a fight, but this…? She was never social, never good with people, even among the fang she had always been solitary, not to mention her teams…ideas.

“Alpha Belladonna, are you…distressed?”

She jumped as she was shocked from her thoughts, looking to see Errant staring at her.

For the first time since she met him, his head was uncovered. Tanned skin was marred by a myriad of burn marks and metal, with open wires poking out of places. His iris’ glowed a faint blue within the odd metal rings that surrounded his eyes. His hair was a pale blonde, uncut and poorly kept, with what appeared to be an odd set of dots haphazardly sitting around his…

Ears.

Atop Errants head was a set ears belonging to a serval.

Errant was a Faunus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Errant Castor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alpha Belladonna’s golden eyes stared at him in shock, somewhat unsettling him.

What had he done to inspire such a look? Was it something he said? He was just trying to help! Ugh, he had never been good at this…He winced as his ears twitched, something they were rarely capable of doing hidden within special compartments of his helmet.

“I’m sorry, do they disturb you?” He asked, hands now pressing his ears down, “I had only thought that, well, since you were abhuman as too…”

His alpha regained her composer upon his words, rushing to reassure him. “No-no-no-no-! I was just shocked that’s-“Her eyes went wide once more, becoming slightly unfocused.

“…You know I’m a Faunus?” She asked, her breathing becoming faster.

**[Emotion detected in Alpha: -Undetermined-]**

**[Mind-link not detected: Rectify immediately]**

Damn, that wouldn’t work.

“Uh, well, yes?” He said scratching his head, “I simply ran bio scans on the team upon the end of our mission and noticed your mutations.” He saw her visibly flinch at the word ‘mutation’, how odd, “I did not mention it previously for the sake of your privacy.” He was certain the bow was designed to hide her shame, a strategy similar to what he had tried as a child.

She let out a long sigh, her body relaxing with the breath, “Thank you for not telling anyone, and with the tech I’ve seen you use, I _really_ should have known…wait, does Gariah know?!”

That she was an abhuman? He had already said he hadn’t told, so what was it…“Does Gariah know what?”

“That-that you’re a Faunus!” She bleated.

Did Gariah know he was an abhuman? Yes, she did. But why would that surprise… “Oh, I see now.”

“What?” Blake asked, even more strained than she already was.

“You fear her anti-mutant views, don’t you?” he asked.

The look in her eye, and the flinch of her body, was all he needed to know the answer.

“To answer your question; Yes, she does. The hatred of all non-pure humans remains, but…in a way, she is simply repeating words form a book, not fully understanding them.”

He had seen such plenty of times within his **own** cult. Priests would parrot ancient scripture, never truly understanding the meaning behind it. Tales told to children were often treated as grand epics, while stories of fantasy and entertainment oft found themselves alongside official records.

“She knows that the pages tell her to hate, but she does not know why. It is by ignorance that doubt takes hold, and it is by doubt that questions form. Of course, such would be considered heresy, but I know her well enough to understand she isn’t exactly what one would consider a ‘saint’, she is quite adept at loopholes.”

His Alpha rested a hand on her head, eyes screwed shut in thought. “So…she isn’t a racist, she’s just spouting scripture?”

“Oh no, she is **absolutely** against all forms of physical heresy, I am merely requesting that you ‘cut her some slack’, as it was how she was raised. The reason for her lack of hatred towards me? She uses the excuse that my technological expertise will be better used in service, than the grave, and is therefore ‘able’ to befriend me.”

“Ugh, that’s just confusing…why can’t people be sane?”

“Because the dark gods despise you for your reason, and they are a petty lot. Now, let’s get going, I’m certain the others have arrived at the mess hall as we speak.” It wouldn’t be good for his Alpha unit to pass out from starvation.

She spoke while letting out a long breath, “You go on ahead of me, I need to pack everything away for later, and…wait.” A confused look took over her face, “Errant, if Faunus were allowed into your order, then why would she only make an exception for you?”

The answer was simple, “The mistake you have made is assuming there are others of our kind within the cult. I stood as a lone mutation among the throng of humanity. If I may be frank…you are the first mutant I have met in almost ten years.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**James Ironwood**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James had been through many ’odd’ meetings, but this by far was the strangest.

It was not an old headmaster speaking of dark gods.

It was not a deranged serial killer high on his own venom.

It was not a drunk Winter trying to flirt with him.

No, instead, it was a young boy.

Whitely Schnee, son of Jacques and Willow Schnee and second in line to the company, sat before him, fidgeting with a handkerchief. The kid requesting a meeting was strange enough, but even stranger was his request that it be kept from his fathers ears.

“…So” He said, “Mind telling me **what** exactly it is you wanted to talk about?”

Whitely stood a little straighter, seeming to gain a shard of confidence, “Ill get straight to the point.”

“Preferably.”

The kid winced at his tone, “I am requesting combat training.” He said.

…

Was that it?

All of this secrecy just for training? Why didn’t he just sign up with the local junior school, He was certain they would take a Schnee of all people. _His father doesn’t know_

…

“Why are you keeping this form your father?”

The nervousness returned to the kids face as he began to fidget once more, “W-well, you see.” He stuttered out, “Father would prefer if I remained untrained, an idea that I am opposed to. Simply put, informing him of my plans would kill them on the spot.”

Such was true, Jacques had made very clear that Weiss would be the last of his children to become a huntress.

“Please, inform me as to **why** I should not only take you on as a student at the academy, but do so in secrecy? Have you even considered **how** exactly your father would miss your absence? I doubt he wouldn’t notice his own son disappearing from the manor.”

That, evidently, was the wrong thing to say. The kids face formed into a heavy scowl, hatred burning in his eyes.

**“You don’t need to worry about that, _he won’t notice.”_**

The words were _wrong_ , as though something nailed them to the front of his mind. Each letter rang in his ears like a cacophony of screeching beasts, each sound tearing through the world around him.

Ironwood looked again, and realized Whitley’s eyes weren’t just burning in rage, the were **actually burning!**

The sheer presence before him fell, as too the kid’s fury The anger was replaced by confusion when he saw James clinging to his chair with tightened muscles. Did he not know what just happened?

… _what could that do if trained?_

_…_

“How about this,” the kid perked up almost immediately, “I can’t get you at the academy full time, **but** , I may be able to have you attended by a tutor.”

Despite the Schnees reputation for being cold, he could practically _feel_ the joy radiating of the kid. _Heh, too bad it won’t be there for long._

“Winter, could you report to my office?”

The look of absolute horror on the kids face made all the frustration worth it.

“P-please _no._ ”

“What’s wrong?” He asked innocently, “Winter is one of my best agents, and I’ve heard she can be _quite_ the teacher when she puts her mind to it. I thought you would be pleased to have your sister tutor you.”

The door to his office opened only seconds later as Winter, punctual as always, walked in.

“Reporting, sir- “Winter cut herself off the second she saw who sat across from him. “…Whitely, what are you doing here?”

Chuckling as the kid tried his best to cease existing, Ironwood stood in greeting, “Winter, good to see you! Your little brother is here with a _very_ simple request, one I think you can help me with.”

The look she gave him was murderous, which, while fair, still scared the shit out of him. Subordinate or not, Winter was **not** to be trifled with.

“What. Is. His. _Request._ ” …Perhaps this was a bad idea.

“You see, our little friend here is requesting a degree of combat training, and I thought to oblige.” He stopped her response with a raised hand, “Ill tell you my reasons later, but for now…I just need your acceptance or denial of this mission.”

“…I accept with _pleasure._ ” Her grip on her sword did not help the statement, “Whitely, I think its time you went back to the manor.”

“But-!”

“NOW.”

He felt bad for the kid but…a pissed off Winter in his office is **not** something he looked forward to.

“Agent, I don’t feel it is right for him to head home alone at this time of night.”

“Its three in the afternoon.”

“Yes, would you mind escorting him home?”

“…No. I think his first lesson should begin _now_.”

Whitley’s eyes pleaded with James as his sister dragged him from the room. Too bad there was no pity in the returning gaze.

Now then, he had work to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ozpin had been annoyingly tight lipped about his _guests_ , to the point that he couldn’t get more than a basic descriptor of their personage.

Tsk, how annoying.

Did he not see what they had to gain?! The edge they could give them in the war?!

Augments!

Super soldiers!

Power armor!

Energy weapons!

Was this a game to him?!

**_“For the most part, yes.”_ **

He froze at those words, a familiar feeling covering his body, a familiar voice in his ear. _Have I heard that voice before…?_

**_“Indeed you have, dear General.”_ **

He shot from his desk as the voice ceased coming from within his mind, a presence appearing behind him.

What he saw…could not be real. An armored giant stood before the window, crimson armor gleaming under the suns light. Strands of gold lined each plate, and a single eye sat upon the helmet.

What caught his eye the most, was the aura surrounding the creature, an odd glow coming from his form.

 _Odd aura, mind powers, strange armor…_ “Shit!”

It was one of **Hers!** His hand flew to the revolver at his side, before freezing in place.

**_“I would kindly request that violence is kept to a minimum, my friend. You needn’t worry regardless; I am no slave the Queen you wage against. Quite the opposite, really.”_ **

“Who- who the hell are you! What do you want!” _stall for time._

**_“Your fear is not required Ironwood; I bring you no harm, If anything, I am here to lend my aid to your cause._ **

Aid?...No, he couldn’t be trusted! Ozpin was-

**_“The fool know as Ozpin is a traitor.”_ **

… _what?_

**_“Think on his actions: He refuses to grant you an edge in the war, he does little more than sit in dark rooms and scheme.”_ **

**_“Every chance you have had has been destroyed by his actions. Is it cowardice? Foolishness? Arrogance? Or perhaps something more sinister.”_ **

**_“It matters not his reasons; a traitor is a traitor.”_ **

_He…had always been odd about direct action. Could he really be…?_

**_“Good, you have begun to see the truth. Now then, dear general, we have much to discuss.”_ **

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Once again, sorry about this taking so long! Mix in a break and a bit of trouble figuring things out, and you’ve got a nearly 3 week content drought.**


	9. Memories: Errant

**Heyo! This is the first of the “memories” a series of mid-length chapters that reveal the pasts of the characters in the story. Further notes are at the bottom.**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Praxis IV**

**Marshal Vastra Exocur**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

A timekeeper quietly ticked against the wall, its brass hands moving ever so slowly around the surface. The steady thrum of engines and the squeals of released steam created a distant drone, ever present in her ears.

The dark brass walls gave a calming shine against the worlds sun, the brilliant rays of an afternoon shining through the hive cities spires. A stack of papers sat stacked upon the wooden table, read, signed, and filed in perfect order.

The golden mural of humanities lord shone against the wall behind her, his shining brilliance glowing in the windows purple sunlight.

…

Power maul and bolt pistol at her side, shield on her arm, she stared out towards the Governor’s palace, shining a bright purple aura. Her vox link burst to life with shouts and warnings, calls and screams.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**[Cog Mind Control/93.56% - Flesh Mind Control/06.44%]**

**[WARNING: Memory Unit Malfunction]**

**[WARNING: Data Unit Malfunction]**

**[WARNING: Scanning Unit Malfunction]**

**[Target Identified – Unit Beowulf - Locking Coordinates]**

**[Estimated Time For Capture – 0H, 12M, 43S, 0054MS]**

**[Visual Contact Made With Target – Running Final Checks]**

**[Primary Ranged weapons: Gamma Pistol/Online – Macro Stubber/Online]**

**[Secondary Ranged Weapon: Remnant Pattern Galvanic Rifle/Online]**

**[Melee Weapons: Power Axe/Online – Transonic-Razors/Online]**

**[Multi-Use Mechadendrites: Lower Arms/Online - Tail Razor/Online – Shoulder Mounted Plasma Pistol/Online]**

**[Surgical Mechadendrites: Buzz-Saw/Online – Cauterizer/Online – Scalpel-Wheel/Online]**

**[Diffusor Payload Has Been Primed]**

**[Running Assault Protocols…]**

**[Preparing Movement Plan…]**

**[Priming Weapons…]**

**[Target – Engaged]**

**[ETC – 0H, 0M, 23S, 0344MS]**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~  
** The palace was a warzone.

The guns and walls that had been built to protect the imperial authority was now raining hell down upon the PDF. The bright White and Blue Uniforms of the Twelfth Praxis defense regiment was marred with deep red of human blood.

What had once been a suspicion raised by Arbitrator teams on sight, had now become a dark reality as an indescribable vortex sat above the great building, horrid screams filling the air. A cacophony of light and color beyond human understanding shone above them, consuming all it touched. The twisted, malformed, bodies of what had once been the palace guard were now charging against the loyalist forces, their screams of pleasure and pain doing more damage to the PDF than their actual weapons.

“Pilot! How close to the palace walls can you get us?” She shouted over the Valkyries engines.

 _“Can’t get closer than our lines have already reached, the courtyards are full of muties and traitors!”_ Came the reply over the Vox.

Damnit! They needed to get in now, before it was too late to stop whatever ritual the governors had started.

But how to…

“…Pilot, I need you to follow my next order without doubt or fear, do you understand?”

_“…Yes Marshal, I understand…”_

“There is a large ornate window in the fashion of our lord on the eighteenth floor. I need you to crash through it.”

_“…Roger, marshal. Ave Imperator”_

“What is your name, pilot?”

_“Lorus Ralian, Ma’am.”_

“Ave Imperator, Lorus.”

She and the five other arbitrators strapped themselves in for the crash ahead. With any luck, their might, cunning, and zeal, would win them the day.

If not for the Emperor…

Then for the countless innocents below.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**[WARNING: Memory Recalibrating…]**

**[WARNING: Data Unit Recalibrating…]**

**[WARNING: Scanning Unit Recalibrating…]**

**[Target Disabled – Linking To Keo-12]**

**[Link Successful – Medical Database Accessed]**

**[Begin Procedure]**

**[Buzz saw activated - Opening Targets Cranium]**

**[Cranium Opened – Brain Exposed]**

**[Scalpel Primed – Removing Parietal Lobe]**

**[Parietal Lobe Removed – Termination protocol Exposed]**

**[Connectors 1+2 removed – 0H, 0M, 02S, 0333MS Until Target Self Termination]**

**[Preparing Diffusor Payload – Preparing Removal of Connectors 3+4]**

**[WARNING: Termination Has Begun – Target has lost 0.2% of Body Mass]**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

She felt the crash, rather than saw it, the dark interior bore no change as the sound of shattering glass sounded around them.

The Valkyrie slammed into the marble of the palace floor, gouging great chunks of the polished stoned along with it.

Metal rent, engines burst, glass broke.

The transports side was blown open by a power maul, followed by six black clad figures climbing out of its destroyed hull.

Vastra took the lead, bolt pistol and maul in hand, followed by Jamison their plasma gunner, with Lanius, Orello, and Aero making the rear.

The pilot had indeed died in the crash, Vastra leaving an aquila on his body to retain his purity in death.

Despite the war outside, the palace halls were eerily quiet, no sound could be heard other than the clanking of boots. The silence should have been comforting; No wails of pain, no daemonic chanting, no marching of clawed feet, yet…It disturbed her all the same.

Slowly, as they marched, a steady thump could be heard in the distance, not unlike that of a heart. A pulsating pink light beginning to flow over the palace walls.

What had started as mere thumps quickly turned into a great orchestra of beats, as though the hearts of an entire world were fighting for dominance.

A bolt shell clattered to the floor as a hole was opened within a traitor’s chest, the chitin like skin doing little to block her shot. Not a scream, but a moan left their throat as they fell dead.

Traitor after traitor charged into the now beating halls, blindly running into the squad of arbitrators. Despite the bolt shells, plasma shots, and maul blasts, they kept coming. Blood now bathed the ground like water after rainfall, the red liquid sticking to their boots.

Ever on they marched, the legion of maniacs never halting their stride. One by one, step by step, shot by shot, they forged a path to the source of daemonic power, the governor’s personal chambers coming into view.

Tendrils of power seeped from the room, almost seeming to becon them forth as they entered the ritual site.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**[WARNING: Target has lost 6.4% body mass]**

**[Connectors 3+4 Removed – Termination Stunted]**

**[Preparing Diffuser Device]**

**[Diffuser Applied to Targets Brain]**

**[Beginning the Cleansing Process…]**

**[Replacing Parietal Lobe…]**

**[Termination Slowed by 89%]**

**[Diffusor Control Module Activating…]**

**[Control Module Activated]**

**[Beginning Checks…]**

**[Link to Nervous System/Online]**

**[Link to Motor Functions/Online]**

**[Link to Mental Functions/Online]**

**[Scanning for damage…]**

**[Heavy Damage Sustained to Left Foreleg/Inoperable]**

**[Heavy Damage Sustained to Optic Systems/Right Eye Inoperable]**

**[Preparing Replacement Blueprints…]**

**[Mission Status – Success]**

**[Rerouting Power to Flesh-Mind…]**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**“Ah! The marshal herself arrives! BRILLIANT!”** The Governor shouted from upon the pedestal he stood upon, a great vortex beginning to form behind him.

**“I had hoped that the _ever-present_ thorn in my side would get the pleasure of watching my ascension! Now, behold the powers the _true_ gods have granted me!”**

Poor Jamison didn’t have time to fire a single plasma blast before he was lifted into the air next to the vortex. She watched as he screamed in pain, his bones and armor snapping from the sheer force that gripped him. Jameson’s now limp body fell to the ground, still primed plasma rifle thudding down next to him.

Lanius fared no better, as they bolt shells simply dissipated before making contact, rematerializing through a portal behind him. Orello, desperate, charged the governor, Flail in hand, before simply vanishing in a flash of light.

Aero, the fool, turned his gun on himself, unwilling to die to the heretic’s power.

Vastra…Vastra couldn’t move.

It was not fear that stopped her, but a force that restricted her limbs, and forced her into a still position, bolt pistol aimed just low of her target.

**“And at last it is only the two of us! Watch and behold! PRINCE OF PLEASURE HEAR MY CRY! YOUR SERVANT BECONES YOUR POWER UNTO THIS WORLD, COME TO-!”**

It was only then, that she realized there was more than two in the room. From the dark came a woman dressed in servant’s gear, rushing towards Jamison’s cracked weapon.

It was only in the blue light of the plasma that Vastra saw the feline ears upon her head…

_“An abhuman…?”_

**“What are you-? NO!”** The maddened heretic turned just in time to see the abhuman level the plasma rifle preparing to fire one last shot into him.

“DIE SCUM, FOR THE EMPEROR!” With one last triumphant cry, the woman jammed the trigger…

But a bolt of energy did not emerge, for in the weapons fall, it had taken that last piece of critical damage…

A great blue explosion shone in front of the fallen governor, his power barely holding it back…

Power that was more than strong enough to negate it entirely.

For despite the great power he held, the great gods that fed him, he was still human.

And humans were prone to one thing:

FEAR.

Regardless of his abilities, in his fear, the governor had focused every last shard of power into the barrier that now held back the explosion.

Every.

Last.

Shard.

There was nothing to stop her as she raised her arm.

There was nothing to stop her as finger fell upon trigger.

There was nothing to stop her as bolt round burst.

There was nothing to stop her as the round found its home.

Within the Governors skull.

With a great blinding flash of horrific light, Vatra faded from consciousness.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Her eyes slowly opened to the dark chambers, a figure standing above her. She reached for her bolt pistol before taking a closer look.

What stood above her was a child, one who bore the exact same ears as the woman…

The hero, she realized.

That woman, that _abhuman_ , had given her life to save the world…all in the Emperors name…and now what could only be her son stood next to Vastra.

When the inquisition arrived they would…no… She could not let the heros child be put to death so easily.

…Who said they needed to know about the child?

It would be days before the inquisition arrived, days before anyone had a chance to look over the survivor lists, not to mention her _close knit_ circle of officers were adept at keeping things secret from nosy officials, whether that be official documents…or children.

“Kid,” She said, leaning up form where she lay, “What’s your name?”

“M-my name? My names Joshua, ma’am…Where’s my mom, she said she would be back but I don’t see her.”

“Don’t worry Joshua, everything will be alright, now help me up before this palae comes down on tope of us.”

**[Recording Terminated]**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**[Flesh-Mind Reinstated at 85% Power]**

Joshua…a name left behind the Priesthood.

That memory again…though, perhaps memory wasn’t the right word.

On his sixteenth birthday, mere weeks after the Tyrranids had flooded their planet, his adoptive mother gave him that recording.

Before then, he had no way to remember his birth mother, no pictures, drawings, or recordings, nothing but memory.

Some may have seen the video as sad, and he understood them in a way; to them, it would be akin to reliving their loved ones death a thousand times, but to him…

It the was the greatest honor imaginable.

His mother, an abhuman, a mere slave, had been given the chance to give her life in holy service.

She had charged the creature without fear, without hesitation, without mercy.

She died for Praxis.

She died for the innocent.

She died for the Omnissiah.

She died…for him.

And in his eyes, that was all that mattered, as he watched her determined face charge against the heretic one last time, before ending the recording.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**I hope you guys liked the memory! Memories will be posted somewhat at random, with the intention of revealing more about the story’s characters by venturing back to their pasts. They may reveal key points to the story, or simply provide perspective on someones beliefs and actions.**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Q &A**

**Inquisitor Krypt: Blakes time will come when she is found out, and I assure you, it wont eb pretty.**

**Another S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: The leg augments were changed as they were the only ones that couldn’t be hidden under armor. Hell be using his old ones soon enough, don’t worry.**

**Alphasdragon: While you asked in a previous chapter, Ill extrapolate a little here; Praxis allowed abhumans to serve in a slave labor like roll, meaning none would ever bee seen near someone like the marshal. Thus, after Errant was taken in, he was never able to meet any from his new place in life.**


	10. Rewrites

**The rewriting and restructuring of Bolters Sorcery and Dust**

Hey all! This is a heads up that I’m going to be performing several major changes to the fic.

The changes range from minor edits, to full rewrites, to a major change in where chapters are placed.

Here are the planned changes so far:

**Minor Edits**

Chapters 2, 4, 5, 6 and 7 will be taking minor edits to grammar and dialogue. I felt these Meto centric chapters held up to what I want the fic to be, and therefore required very few changes.

**Rewrites**

Chapters 1 and 3 will be undergoing massive rewrites, as I feel I could have done MUCH better in their implementation. This will also allow me to fix inconsistencies in the story.

**Restructuring**

Chapter 7 is being moved to chapter one and will be expanded upon to give the setting a better introduction to the characters.

The memories will be flashes of Errants past, detailing when characters met each other, and letting us know who the hell they are before we arrive on Remnant.

**Notable changes in story**

Errant will be moved to the age of infant, rather than 7, when the manor incident occurred.

Yang will be changed to be a second year, with Ruby having only gotten in 1 year early.

Phyrra will be a solo student, as IN CANNON she decked an entire team solo (what the fuck)

**Welp, that should be about it. I don’t know how long this will take me, but be sure to keep an eye out for if the chapters suddenly have a “V2” next to them.**

**See yall later!**

**Author's Note:**

> Any criticism is welcomed!


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